


Beneath the Brick and Ivy

by lil_cap



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, I'm doing this for me and me only but also i hope you like it uwu, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Minor Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Dedue Molinaro, Minor Catherine/Shamir Nevrand, Multi, Murder Mystery, Past Violence, and also day to day school life, when u gotta go to fencing lessons at 5 but your professor gets murdered at 4
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:41:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 49,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28945332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lil_cap/pseuds/lil_cap
Summary: What if Three Houses took place at a New England boarding school in 2018, where Byleth is a new student to the senior class, Dimitri, Claude, and Edelgard are house prefects, and instead of mock battles, they have interhouse field days where students compete in footraces and fencing matches? Where the cobblestones and drafty buildings are set against the background of the Berkshire Mountains of Western Massachusetts, and students' parents aren't kings and emperors, but lawyers and senators?What about when a teacher is murdered before the first day of school?In a story that diverges heavily from canon in about every conceivable way, new student Byleth and her classmates in the Blue Lion house do their best to navigate their senior year at a high-pressure Catholic Prep school while also trying to resist the pull of an apparent murder investigation. It's all the drama of a teen TV show with the power dynamics and character depth of Fire Emblem, told from the alternating points of view of Byleth, Felix, and Ingrid. Rated M for language, some bloodiness, and violence.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth, Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 35
Kudos: 55





	1. New Faces (Byleth)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thanks for clicking on my story! Before we get started, I just want to mention a few things:
> 
> 1\. Basically the only thing I kept from the canon of the game is personalities and relationship dynamics. Other than that, we are going way off the rails. You can think of this as a deep-dive into the characters without the complexity of the world lore, but it's mostly fanservice to myself, and hopefully others!
> 
> 2\. Blue Lions is the only route I've completed, so if I say anything that doesn't make sense in the context of Black Eagles or Golden Deer, forgive me. Thx.
> 
> That's basically all for now! Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Outside, an end-of-summer breeze coasted the Berkshires and drifted across the campus, messing up a sophomore girl’s hair and blowing a leaf into the open suitcase of a nervous freshman boy. The afternoon sun gave the old campus a stunning glow, the aged brick of the buildings and the verdant ivy which clung to them taking on a golden tinge. The breeze drifted through the open window of the Headmistress’ office, which looked over the entire grounds. 

Inside, Byleth sat in a plush armchair, her arms crossed tightly in front of her. Her father sat in the chair next to hers, talking across a large, oak desk to the headmistress of the school - Rhea, she’d said to call her. After 11 years of homeschooling, Byleth wasn’t sure she was ready to call a teacher anything other than “dad,” but she guessed she would have to get used to it. After Rhea called upon Jeralt to come back to teach again, he’d brought her along - it would be good “socialization,” he’d said.

Byleth didn’t like it. Especially considering the reason Rhea had called Jeralt a week before the semester started - a teacher had disappeared, and they needed a replacement. Byleth wasn’t supposed to know that, but she had good hearing and her father spoke loudly.

Now, though, as he and Rhea discussed the logistics of having Byleth join the senior class at Garreg Mach Catholic Preparatory School, his usually booming voice sounded like nothing above a dull buzz. Byleth didn’t want to hear about class schedules or exams or what it would take for her to catch up. She didn’t want to hear any of it. She wanted to be back with her dad in their old RV, just the two of them, driving around the country with no itinerary, her dad lecturing her on history and English as he drove, and teaching math and science and things that needed diagrams at night. He picked up work when he needed it, if he found something interesting, and sometimes she helped. They did all sorts of things together - they dug ditches, drove delivery, or did maintenance. Once, Byleth picked up a one-month stint as a junior photographer at the local paper in Moulton, Indiana, using her dad’s old Nikon while he did janitorial work in the office. It was a strange life, and Byleth knew that, but it was hers, and she loved it.

Only for it to be ruined by a high school principal, of all people.

“Byleth? What do you think?”

She shook herself from her reverie and focused on Rhea. She didn’t seem old enough to have been the principal of a high school for nearly twenty years, but apparently she was, since she had been principal the first time Jeralt worked here, before Byleth was even alive. 

“Sorry, what?”

“I was asking you what house you wanted to join,” Rhea said. “We usually sort our students as freshman, based on matriculation numbers, and the students interests, but since you’re our only new senior, you may pick any house you choose.”

She frowned, looking at the photo Rhea had slid to her of the three house prefects under their banners. Under the red banner stood a short girl with long, white-blonde hair and violet eyes, who regarded the camera coldly, as if she had better things to do than pose for a photo. Under the yellow banner stood a young man who looked in every way her opposite - he had dark skin, curly dark hair, and a grin. He looked completely relaxed in a cocksure sort of way, like he had the utmost confidence that nothing bad could ever happen to him. Last was a slightly taller boy, who, despite his ramrod posture and spotless uniform, had a friendly smile on his face. He, like the girl, had light blonde hair, though his eyes were blue. Byleth hated to admit it, but she was drawn far more to the boy in the picture than any of the listed attributes of any of the houses.

She looked up from the photo, and tried to shrug nonchalantly. “I like blue.” 

\--

Hours later, Byleth stood in her small dorm room. Her dad had sent her here to unpack, but with barely a duffle bag of belongings and her clothing provided by means of a school uniform, she’d finished long before she was due for dinner. Now, she sat on her bed, editing photos from her most recent shoot. She and her father had sneaked into an abandoned mini golf course at six in the morning, and Byleth had spent an hour taking as many photos as she could of decrepit course features under the glow of the rising sun. She was just tweaking the contrast on a photo of the dilapidated windmill when there was a knock on her door.

“Come in,” she called, expecting her father to walk in. Instead, the door opened to reveal the blonde boy from the prefects’ photo. He was less stiff in real life - just entering her room, he showed off the easy grace of a ballet dancer. 

“Hello,” he said in a smooth baritone, “I’m Dimitri. You must be our newest recruit. Byleth, right?”

Byleth swallowed the nerves that shot from her stomach to her throat, and clambered off the bed. “Yes, Byleth. You said your name is Dimitri?” as if she hadn’t heard him completely clearly the first time.

“Yes, Dimitri Blaiddyd,” he said, shaking her hand. The last name tickled something in her brain, like she’d heard it before, but it faded as quickly as it appeared. “I’m the prefect of the Blue Lion house. I’m glad you decided to join us - it’ll be nice to have someone new. We’ve all known each other for so long now.” He must’ve noticed the panic on her face, because he went on, “Oh, not that it’ll be hard for you to fit in, or anything. We’re not so tightly bonded that we can’t - that is, everyone’s really friendly, you’ll make new friends in no time, I’m sure.” He winced at himself. “I didn’t make that sound very good at all, did I?”

His discomfort alleviated some of Byleth’s and she allowed herself a small smile. “No, you didn’t, but it’s ok. I think I know what you mean.”

He sighed, relieved. “Well, good. In that case, would you like to meet some people before dinner? The first dinner of the semester is a big deal, so we’ll all go together, but otherwise dinner is pretty informal.”

“Uh, sure,” Byleth said. “I guess it would be good to meet some people before the first class.”

“Great!” Dimitri said. “My friends are all in the common room.” Byleth didn’t like the implication that they were all downstairs waiting for her, but she tried to ignore it. She grabbed her keys and followed Dimitri into the hallway.

“Each house has its own common room, for studying or hanging out, but all the common rooms are on the first floor, so if you make friends in another house, you’re welcome to hang there,” Dimitri explained as they moved down the hallways and into a stairwell.

“So, not to be rude, but if we all live together and eat together and have classes together, what exactly is the point of the houses?” Byleth asked. It was a good point - the dormitory was divided into a girl’s half and boy’s half, linked by the common rooms on the first floor, but on each side, members of all houses lived next door to one another.

“Well, it didn’t used to be quite so communal. Modern influences of inclusion and whatnot have made it so the houses are more of a formality, but tradition won’t allow the school to get rid of them entirely. Nowadays, the houses mostly dictate who’s on kitchen duty.” He looked over his shoulder and smiled. “Still, though, most people tend to make friends within their houses. A lot of people are legacies, and they end up in whatever house their parents or siblings were in. And since their parents’ friends were also in the same house, the kids end up growing up together, so that by the time they get here -”

“You all already knew each other,” Byleth finished. 

“Exactly.” Dimitri said. “Still, I wouldn’t call it clique-y or anything. For example, I’m now classmates with three of my childhood friends, but I wouldn’t say my best friend is among them.”

“But he is in the Blue Lion house?”

Dimitri smiled again, albeit a bit sheepishly. “Yeah, he is. Oh, here we are,” and he threw open a wooden door with a blue stained glass window. The door swung a bit harder than he meant for it to, and Dimitri scrambled to grab a hold of the doorknob again before the door hit the wall.

“Easy, superman,” drawled a lithe boy with black hair he had pulled back in a ponytail. “You’ll shatter the window and get us all put on dish duty for a month.” The words sounded like a joke, but from the tone of voice and sour look on the boy’s face, Byleth gathered that there was some actual malice between him and Dimitri.

“I got it,” Dimitri said quietly, before composing himself. “Everyone, meet our new classmate, Byleth. Byleth, this is everyone.”

Looking away from the snarky boy on the couch, Byleth took in the rest of the group. Sitting next to the snarky boy was a serious-looking blonde girl who seemed to be trying her best to look interested out of politeness. Behind her, a tall, lanky redheaded boy was grinning at Byleth, even as he played with the blonde girl’s hair, braiding and rebraiding the ends. To one side of the couch sat a young, eager-looking boy, and to the other sat two girls who had been talking between themselves, but who now gave Byleth the only genuine smiles in the room. A bit away from everyone else, at the back, was a very tall, broad-shouldered young man with close-cropped hair and an anxious scowl. 

“Hi!” said the first of the pair of girls, a tiny redhead, as she bounded up to Byleth. “I’m Annette, and this is Mercedes. It’s so nice to meet you!” She grabbed Byleth’s hand in half-shake. “You’re gonna love it in the Blue Lions, we all have so much fun!”

“Nice to meet you too,” Byleth said, harboring some doubt at Annette’s last statement as she surveyed the cold atmosphere of the room. “And you, Mercedes,” she said, shaking the other girl’s hand. 

The lanky red-haired boy had sidled up as well, and he now reached out to take Byleth’s hand, only when she gave it, he bent to kiss it. “The name’s Sylvain, and it’s very nice to meet you.”

“Sylvain,” Dimitri said in a warning tone. 

“What?” Sylvain said, giving his prefect a cheeky grin. “I’m just being friendly.” He backed away, winking at Byleth even as he did. 

Dimitri sighed. “Well, that’s Ashe,” he said, gesturing to the smaller boy by the couch, who smiled and waved. “And that’s Ingrid and Felix.” The serious blonde and the sour lithe one both gave half smiles and went back to sitting in cold silence.

“And this,” Dimitri said, grabbing Byleth’s elbow and leading her towards the back of the room, “is Dedue, the one I told you about.”

Byleth blinked at him. “The one you told me about?”

“My best friend!” Dimitri said, with a sort of forceful enthusiasm. 

“That’s kind of you, Dimitri, but you can tone it down a bit,” Deduce said. His resonant voice matched his body well, but the formal tone with which he spoke did not. “Hello, Byleth. It’s nice to meet you. Please, forgive Dimitri - he tends to get carried away when talking about our relationship.”

This was, perhaps, the weirdest dynamic in the room, and Byleth hadn’t thought it possible after seeing Ingrid and Felix on the couch. “What do you mean?” 

Dimitri rolled his eyes. “Dedue has convinced himself that I’m only friends with him because he tutors me in French, ignoring the fact that I’ve told him repeatedly that that’s not true.”

Dedue shrugged. “My parents spoke French to me as a child, and now I’m fluent. It’s only natural that I should be a good tutor.”

“That’s beside the point - whatever.” Dimitri gave up, clearly having had this conversation many times before. He turned to Byleth as Dedue moved past them, distracted by something across the room. “Forgive them. I know they can be a bit...odd, I guess, upon first meeting them, but they’re all nice, I swear.”

Byleth shrugged. “I liked Annette, and Mercedes. And I didn’t actually talk to Ashe, but he seemed friendly.” 

Dimitri chuckled. “Interesting. You picked out three of the least privileged among us as the nicest - I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but it’s interesting nonetheless.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, tuition here isn’t exactly cheap. Most of the students come from wealthy backgrounds. Annette, Mercedes, and Dedue are three of the few who don’t, and Ashe was adopted as teenager, so he wasn’t exactly born with a silver spoon.”

“So everyone else has rich parents?” 

Dimitri nodded. “Pretty much. Sylvain’s father is in business, and Ingrid’s is a lawyer for a big Boston firm. Felix’s family is old, old money - think Rockefeller, but less famous, obviously.”

“And you?”

Dimitri turned to look at her, a small expression of surprise on his face. “My dad is - was a senator for many years, as was his father. Generational wealth there, too,” he finished with a wry smile.

Byleth realized, then, why she’d recognized his surname. Senator Blaiddyd and his wife had died in a plane crash several years ago. It had been a huge story at the time, and remembered as a tragic accident, and then slowly forgotten, at least by Byleth.

“Dimitri, I’m so sorry. I should’ve recognized the name.”

“Oh, don’t apologize,” Dimitri reassured her. “It was awful when it happened, of course, but I’ve had time to get over it.” From the way his jaw tightened, though, Byleth was pretty sure that wasn’t true.

“Is it time for dinner yet?” Felix called over the back of the couch. 

Dimitri glanced at Felix, and then at his watch. “Oh, yes, I guess it is. Shall we?”

Felix rose and rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to talk like a prince, Dimitri. It’s obnoxious.” He walked from the room without another word. Sylvain followed jauntily behind, as did Ingrid, with an apologetic smile as she did.

Byleth raised her eyebrows at Dimitri as they followed out of the common room, down a short hallway, and outside. “What’s his deal?”

“Oh, I don’t think we have the time for all that,” Dimitri grimaced. “I guess the short version would be that we used to be close, but over time, we drifted apart. Sometime in that drift, he started to hate me, though I’m not entirely sure why.”

“You know, you said earlier that you were all the best of friends.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Dimitri said with a touch of bitterness. “It’s true, really - Felix can be a cranky asshole, but he’s still like a brother to me, and I actually think he’d consider me the same. But it’s been a long summer, and I’m sure everyone is tired and not looking forward to school starting, and having a new face isn’t exactly easy for them. It’ll be better in a week or so, I promise.”

He smiled at her then, and the quivering lurch she felt in her stomach twice earlier - when she looked at his photo and when he first entered her room - returned with a vengeance. It was a smile that lit up his entire face, that seemed so full of optimism that it made her feel hopeful, and she wasn’t even sure what she had to be hopeful about. His light blue eyes sparkled in the setting sun, and Byleth had to fight to catch her breath. 

Dimitri and Dedue - for the taller boy had rejoined them to walk to the dining hall - led her to the third of three long tables in a classically decorated dining hall. On a raised platform at one end was a teacher’s table, where Byleth saw her dad talking with a jovial-looking man with a large mustache. The three house banners were hung on the back wall, along with a school crest. Presiding over all of them was a tall, immaculately kept statue of virgin Mary, her hands clasped in prayer, her eyes cast downwards. Byleth saw Mercedes cross herself before sitting - an actual Catholic, it seemed, at a Catholic school for the rich.

Byleth sat next to Dimitri, half-listening as he talked about various things in the room, trying to get her dad’s attention, though he was focused on the man next to him. She could read the pained expression on his face from where she sat, and wondered again why they’d come back to a school where he obviously felt so uncomfortable.

Rhea stood, her long, formal black cloak sweeping elegantly over her shoulders and onto the floor. At this gesture alone, the dining hall full of chattering students fell quiet.

“Hello, students,” Rhea began, “and welcome to another school year at Garreg Mach. To our returning students - our sophomores, juniors and seniors - I hope you find this year as successful and as fulfilling as your last. To our new students -” Rhea’s eyes flicked to Byleth - “I hope you find everything you’re looking for. This school is not only a place of learning, and a place of faith, but a place of family. Know that you will be welcomed here with open arms and open hearts, and all we ask in return is that you welcome us in the same way. Now, for a few announcements, I’ll turn things over to Deputy Headmaster, Seteth.”

She gestured to the man on her right, who stood as she sat. He was tall and thin, with swept back hair and a goatee. He wore an expression of careful haughtiness, like he could see everything you did, and he would judge you severely for it.

“Now, before we eat, I want to introduce some new faculty. This is Jeralt Eisner,” Seteth gestured over as Byleth’s father stood and gave the students a small wave. “Professor Eisner will be teaching history for freshmen and sophomores. Additionally, this year we’re happy to welcome back two of our own alumni, now part of the faculty. We welcome Catherine Charon, who in her days as a student was a nationally recognized fencer, as the new coach of our fencing team. Apparently the Olympics were too small a stage for her.” Rhea smiled warmly at a woman to her left, with tan skin and strawberry blonde hair. She had broad shoulders, and Byleth wasn’t surprised to hear she was an Olympic athlete. Catherine smiled confidently at the students, then glanced at the woman beside her, who, in contrast, had blue-black hair and a pale, narrow face. Byleth thought she could see Catherine move for her neighbor’s hand under the table. “We’re also thrilled to have Catherine’s wife, Shamir Nevrand, return to us to join the math department as a calculus teacher.” Shamir gave a small nod before directing her attention back to Rhea, who stood again.

“Well, I suppose with all the formalities out of the way, we should get to the good part, yes?” Rhea swept out her arms, and the students rose, Byleth quickly following suit. “Let’s eat!” 

\--

After dinner, Byleth bid everyone a quick goodbye in the common room and went straight back to her room, claiming exhaustion from traveling. Truthfully, she was overwhelmed, and still a little embarrassed from the discovery that the students here still had to walk through a line to get their food, cafeteria-style. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected - certainly not the magically appearing food of  _ Harry Potter _ \- but from Felix’s expression at least she knew she’d made a fool of herself. 

During the meal, Dimitri had pointed out the rest of the faculty members that Byleth would be taking classes from. Shamir was one of them, as was a beautiful woman who sat on the other side of Shamir. “Dr. Manuela Casagranda. She’s the school physician, but she also teaches an introductory medicine elective to seniors that I see you have. You’ll have English with Professor Rangeld, though he tells us all to call him Alois.” Dimitri had pointed out the man talking with her dad, and Byleth could see that he did indeed look like the kind of teacher who told everyone to call him by his first name. “You’re taking AP Biology?” Dimitri had asked. 

“Yeah,” Byleth had said, peering at her own schedule as if she didn’t have it memorized already. “I like biology.”

Dimitri had nodded, appreciatively, Byleth thought. “Well, for that you’ll have Professor Hanneman.” He’d pointed out a tall, older man with impressive graying facial hair. He was pushing his food around his plate without eating, his brow furrowed. “He’s pretty nice, if a bit strange. Does genetics research on the side, so if you’re interested in that kind of thing, you should ask about working in his lab. Supposed to be cool, if you like science.”

“You don’t?”

Dimtri had smiled at that. “No, I much prefer the humanities - Alois is one of my favorite teachers, actually. Looks like we have his class together.” He’d smiled again, and it stuck like a barb in her chest.

Now, as she was trying to finish editing her photos, her thoughts kept floating away from her. She thought of the room of students she’d met earlier, who Dimitri described as his friends, yet all seemed like they barely liked each other. Annette and Mercedes seemed to be the only two who really liked each other - well, plus Sylvain, who certainly seemed to like Ingrid from the way he’d toyed with her hair and followed her doggedly. Byleth thought of Ingrid and Felix, sitting next to each other but very carefully avoiding touching each other, and wondered if there was a love triangle lurking beneath. 

And then there was serious, sullen Dedue. Byleth had no idea what to make of him, nor did she know what to make of Ashe, who seemed friendly enough, but hadn’t actually said a word to her. 

And then, of course, Dimitri. He was clearly the glue of this friend group, which had broken into smaller groups without him there. And Byleth could see why people would gravitate towards him - between the sparkling blue eyes and easy, reassuring confidence, he had made her feel more sure of herself simply by being nearby.

Byleth shook him from her mind. She had school in the morning, something she’d never had. She didn’t even know what school was supposed to be like, save what she saw in movies and read in books. She wasn’t confident that pop culture kept it accurate, though - surely classes lasted longer than a four minute scene. There were more important things to focus on - more important things to agonize over, even, than a pretty boy.

Byleth eyed her wardrobe, one door hanging open slightly due to a faulty latch. Just inside, she could catch a glimpse at the pressed white shirts, dark gray pants, and plaid skirts hanging inside. Looped over the knob of the one closed door was a blue and silver striped tie - the tie of the Blue Lion house. She made a mental note to look up a “how to tie a tie” tutorial in the morning, and pulled the comforter over her head.

\--

Byleth arrived at her first class with several minutes to spare, her anxiety over getting lost leading her to leave breakfast earlier. She wondered briefly if she’d somehow stumbled onto another campus, as the fluorescent lights and clean lab equipment of the biology classroom didn’t match with the old brick exterior of the building.

In her panic to get to class on time, she hadn’t thought to ask any of her classmates for directions, or if they’d be in the same class, and she chided herself for that as Annette and Felix walked into the lab.

“Hi, Byleth!” Annette called, and came over and perched on her desk. “I didn’t know you were in this class - we could’ve walked over together!”

“Yeah, sorry, I just wanted to make sure I’d get here on time,” Byleth explained.

Annette nodded sagely. “I totally get it. My freshman year, I showed up to class at least ten minutes early every day for the first month.” She smiled, and Byleth felt some of her tension dissipate.

“You know this is AP Biology, right?” Felix asked, taking a seat at the table in front of her and pulling out his phone. “I didn’t think homeschool would give the necessary prerequisites for a class like this.”

Annette rolled her eyes. “Ignore him. He thinks he’s the smartest person at this school,” she finished by lightly smacking him on the back of the head.

He tilted his head back to scowl at her. “If I’m not, then who is?”

Annette gave him a brilliant smile. “I am.” He rolled his eyes, and turned back to his phone. Annette turned back to Byleth. “Mind if I sit with you? He’s clearly not gonna be any fun this morning.”

“Heard that,” Felix said.

“You were supposed to,” Annette replied in a sing-songy voice. She turned back to Byleth. “So, may I?”

“Of course,” Byleth said, shifting her stuff away from Annette’s seat. “I’m certainly not saving it for anyone.”

Annette smiled, and started to say something else, before looking above Byleth’s shoulder and refocusing. “Oh, hi, Edelgard.”

Byleth turned, and saw the girl from the photo, the one under the red banner. Now, she wore a red and black striped tie and a tight smile. She was even more beautiful in person, with perfect porcelain skin and that long, blonde hair. The only thing less stunning were the eyes - while in the picture, they’d seemed bright, if cold, they now looked dull and tired. Behind her stood a tall young man with black hair and narrow yellow eyes.

“Annette,” Edelgard nodded cordially. “And you must be Byleth, right? I’m Edelgard, prefect of the Black Eagles house. I heard you got your pick of the houses. Any reason you didn’t pick ours?”

Christ, she was direct. Before Byleth could answer, Edelgard was joined by another young man, the third boy from the photo. The gold tie he wore now was a near perfect match for his wide, shining eyes, which were nothing like those of the boy who hovered behind Edelgard, despite being the same color. 

“Edelgard, you’re not harassing the new girl are you?” he asked, leaning one arm on her shoulder.

The boy behind them coughed, and the Golden Deer boy jumped. “Jesus, Hubert, you’re like a shadow. You know, you don’t have to follow her everywhere. Or do you guys have some sort of contract?”

“Nobody thinks you’re funny, Claude.” Edelgard said, unceremoniously pushing his arm off her shoulder.

Claude shrugged away the insult. “I think I’m pretty funny.” He turned to Byleth and flashed a megawatt smile. “What about you? Do you think I’m funny? And before you answer, don’t let Edelgard intimidate you - she’s scary, but harmless, really.”

Edelgard rolled her eyes. “God, never mind. Byleth, I’d love the chance to get to know you when we don’t have to deal with interruptions. I hope you have a good first day.” She smiled at Byleth, scowled at Claude, and went back to her seat, Hubert following closely behind.

Claude sighed. “You know, I wouldn’t mess with her so much if she didn’t make it so fun.” he watched her walk away for another moment before looking down at Byleth and Annette. “So, why  _ did  _ you pick the Blue Lions? It was his hair, right? Dimitri’s got great hair.”

“Uh, no,” Byleth said, heat creeping up the back of her neck. “I just like the color blue,” she said, sticking to her earlier lie.

“Ah,” Claude nodded, “so it’s the eyes then?”

The flush reached her cheeks now. “No, that’s not what I meant, I just -”

Claude waved her off. “No worries, new girl. I know  _ exactly _ what you mean.” He winked at her, and before she could say anything else, he was walking back to his seat at the back of the room.

Byleth heaved a sigh and dropped her head onto her arms. “Why do I feel like everyone here is making fun of me?”

“Because they are,” Felix drawled.

“Shut up, Felix.” Annette chided. She crinkled her nose at Byleth in a pitying smile. “They probably are though,” she said quietly. “Claude is pretty harmless though. And anyway, they’ll get used to you eventually. Some of these people have been living so insularly for years, they don’t know how to react to a new face. Like, take him, for example.” Annette gestured to Felix with her chin. “He grew up with Sylvain, Ingrid, and Dimitri. Imagine you’ve only known three people your age your whole life, and then you get thrust into a place like this. They were super cliquey our freshman year, but we got them to loosen up eventually. Well, Sylvain loosened up, at least.”

As if summoned, Sylvain charged through the door, waving his hands apologetically. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m late - oh.” he ended abruptly, noticing there was no teacher to apologize to. “Wasn’t this class supposed to start five minutes ago?”

“It was, Mr. Gautier,” said a voice behind him. He wheeled around, and Seteth, the Deputy Headmaster sidled through the doorway. “Students, I apologize for the interruption, but this class is canceled today.”

“Why?” demanded Edelgard.

Seteth sighed. “I’m very sorry to say this, especially in this context, but unfortunately, Dr. Hanneman passed away last night.”

A murmur went around the room. Felix sat upright in his seat, genuine surprise and concern apparent on his face. Annette reflexively grabbed Byleth’s hand, and Byleth, stunned, grabbed Annette’s in return.

“What do you mean?” Claude asked. “Like he had a heart attack or something?”

Seteth sighed and regarded them all uncomfortably. “No, Mr. von Riegan. He was murdered.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you made it this far, thanks! It's been a hot minute since I wrote fanfic, so this has been fun. Please, if you have any comments, questions, or concerns, drop em below! You can also find me on tumblr @silenticarus, where I yell about Fire Emblem, among other things.
> 
> Also, Shamir is a calculus lesbian and nobody can change my mind on that.
> 
> Cheers y'all!


	2. Black Grass (Felix)

On the first day of classes, the early morning sun had just begun to warm the campus grounds, the cobblestone and brick of the courtyard, the still-green grass, the browning leaves of the oaks and maples. The early fog was breaking and the dew was just starting to lift, when Jeralt Eisner entered Hanneman’s apartment. Birds sang outside as Jeralt dialed Rhea’s office, and then 911, calmly but hurriedly telling them everything he saw. In the dining hall, bacon was fried and eggs were scrambled as Jeralt examined Hanneman’s cold body, a bloody hole torn into the front, eyes wide and unseeing.

\--

Felix had started his day the same way he did most others: with a run around campus and the surrounding town, a habit he’d formed as a freshman. Every day, a run. No better way to stay fit and sleek and strong than an early morning run. He’d originally been taught the virtues of a daily run by his older brother Glenn, and it had seemed to work for him, considering he’d gotten engaged before he even graduated high school. 

And, as he always did when thoughts of Glenn pushed in, Felix started running faster.

He checked his watch when he got back - one of those fancy ones that tracked heartbeat and sleep and distance traveled, a gift from his uncle - and smiled to himself. Seven miles wasn’t bad for the first day of school, and the time was good, too. 

He then used his watch to actually check the time, and swore softly, not noticing until now that he was actually running late. He stripped quickly and stepped into the shower. No time to dry his hair, so he scraped it back into a bun with a plain black elastic. 

He quickly donned his school uniform: white dress shirt, dark gray pants, blue and silver tie, and a gray blazer. He took a moment to admire the new tightness of his shirt and blazer across his shoulders, having obtained some muscle and a broadness that hadn’t been there before.

He grabbed his bag and headed downstairs and out into the morning sun. It was already warmer than it had been when he went running, and he took just a moment to soak it in before powering to the dining hall. He ate alone, in his usual fashion, using one hand to shovel food into his mouth and the other to hold down the pages of an open book.

“Hey, Fifi!” A feeling like ice water rushed into his stomach as he heard Annette call out to him.

“I’ll pay you real money to never call me that again,” Felix grumbled as Annette and Mercedes sat across from him.

Annette smiled. “Aw, Fifi, you know I could never take your money. So, you have AP Bio first period, right?”

“Yep.”

“Perfect - I do too! Wanna walk over together?”

Felix looked up at her for the first time. Her short red hair was braided into pigtails - childish, Felix decided. She looked shockingly cheerful for 7:30 in the morning, and Felix attributed at least some of that to the enormous mug of coffee she was drinking. He sighed. “Do I have a choice?”

Annette pretended to think about it. “Hmm. Nope!”

“Great. Leave at 7:40?”

“Sounds good!” And she turned to talk to Mercedes, leaving Felix to return to his reading. At 7:38, he stood and deposited his dishes at the wash station and headed towards the door, where Annette was waiting, a suspicious look on her face. “You weren’t trying to leave me, were you?”

“No,” Felix answered truthfully. “I knew you’d be here. You’re the smartest person here, besides me.”

“Right,” she laughed. 

“So, how was your summer?” Felix asked as they fell into step.

“Uh, fine, how was yours?”

“Good. What did you do?”

“I worked in a research lab at Wellesley,” Annette answered, raising an eyebrow. “Why?”

Felix shrugged. “Just making polite conversation.”

“Hm. Ok, well, what did you do?”

“Oh, the usual. Fenced, ran, read. Studied a little.”

“All while hanging in - what, the Hamptons?”

Felix frowned. “Uh, Italy, actually. My uncle has a home on the Amalfi coast.”

“Got it.”

They continued their walk in silence, save for the moment when they got to the science building and Felix held the door open for Annette, who muttered a small “thank you,” as she walked in ahead of him. Felix kicked himself for not coming up with any better conversation on the walk over than rubbing his family’s wealth in her face. By the time they got to their classroom, the most neutral thing he could come up with was gardening, and by that time it didn’t seem worth it.

He was distracted, anyway, by seeing the new girl, Byleth, already at one of the pairs of desks. She was on the left side, second row, a respectable choice - sitting near the front gave her a good view of the board and made it hard to be ignored by the professor, but being off to the side left her out of the main sightline from the board. By the time he was finished analyzing Byleth’s seat choice, Annette was halfway across the room to her. Felix hurried to catch up, and slid into the seat in front of her.

““You know this is AP Biology, right?” He asked as he grabbed his phone from his pocket, frowning at a barrage of texts. “I didn’t think homeschool would give the necessary prerequisites for a class like this.” He knew that was meaner than the new girl deserved, but he couldn’t deny the truth in it.

He jumped a little as Annette smacked him on the back of the head, saying, “Ignore him. He thinks he’s the smartest person at this school.”

Felix craned his neck to look at her. “If I’m not, then who is?”

Annette gave him a brilliant smile. “I am.” He rolled his eyes and turned back to his phone, waiting to smile until he thought Annette wouldn’t see it. He liked the competitive part of her.

He ignored his texts and opened his email, seeing an email from Catherine, the new fencing coach. 

Behind him, Annette was still talking to Byleth. “Mind if I sit with you? He’s clearly not gonna be any fun this morning.”

“Heard that,” Felix muttered, as he read the email from Catherine. 

_ Hey team. _

__ _ Due to the current circumstances on school grounds, today’s practice has been canceled. Sorry to do this on the first day, but I’ll expect to see you all tomorrow. Attached is a workout to do on your own sometime between now and tomorrow night. _

__ _ Thanks.  _

__ _ Coach Catherine. _

Felix reread the email, and then reread it again. Canceled? Since when was practice ever canceled? And shouldn’t he, as the new men’s team captain, have heard about this before everyone else? And what the hell did “the current circumstances on school grounds” mean?

He opened his text messages to see a huge host of messages in his group chat with Dimitri, Sylvain, and Ingrid - a group chat he rarely participated in but always read. The messages were mostly from Sylvain, describing how he saw ( _ or _ , Felix thought,  _ whatever girl he was making out with saw _ ) an ambulance pulling up to the teacher’s apartments. Ingrid replied with more questions, Sylvain answered vaguely and with a lot of “I don’t know”s, and finally Dimitri responded: “I don’t know exactly, but it’s bad. Headed to Rhea’s office now. If you see Claude or Edelgard, let them know to call me back.”

Felix sent one message: “Tf?” 

As it happened, he did know where both Claude and Edelgard were - he’d been hearing their voices behind him as he sorted through the chaos on his phone. He understood more than anyone else why they weren’t answering Dimitri, but as he turned around to talk to them, they were already walking away. 

“Why do I feel like everyone here is making fun of me?” Byleth asked, head down on her desk.

“Because they are?” Felix suggested, even while not knowing the context with which she had asked.

“Shut up, Felix,” Annette sneered, before turning back to coddle Byleth.

Whatever. Felix turned back around and slunk low in his seat, putting his feet up on the desk. Something weird was happening on campus, and it was clearly more important than new kid drama. He reread the texts from Sylvain again, and then the email from Catherine, trying to pull clues together.

He was drafting a response to Catherine when Sylvain burst through the door, already apologizing for being late before realizing that Professor Hanneman wasn’t there.

Sylvain glanced at his watch, then locked eyes with Felix. “Wasn’t this class supposed to start 5 minutes ago?” 

Dread filled Felix’s stomach. From looking at Sylvain, he could see they were thinking the same thing.

That’s when Seteth entered behind Sylvain, and dropped the bomb: “Dr. Hanneman passed away last night.”

Felix perked up in his seat, and he and Sylvain looked at each other again, suspicion rising in them both. It was one of the more infuriating things about Sylvain - Felix could never distance himself enough to stop Sylvain from always knowing what Felix was thinking.

“What do you mean?” Claude asked from the back of the room. “Like he had a heart attack or something?”

“No, Mr. von Riegan. He was murdered.”

The pool of dread in Felix’s stomach hardened like a rock. He sat up, swinging his feet off the desk and onto the ground. 

There were several seconds of stunned silence, before Edlegard said, “How do you know?”

Seteth pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m not sure how much more I’m allowed to say at the moment, unfortunately. Miss von Hresvelg, Mr. von Riegan, you’re both wanted in an emergency prefect’s meeting in the headmistress’ office. The rest of you, head back to your common rooms, and we’ll send your prefects back with more information in a bit. You’re dismissed.”

Felix’s jaw hung open at the frankness of Seteth’s speech, but he, Edelgard, and Claude had already walked from the room, the latter two hurling question after question at an unresponsive Seteth, their voices echoing off the tile floor of the hallway, traveling back to the quiet room they’d left.

Felix stood slowly, and surveyed his classmates. Sylvain was looking back at him, an expression on his face like he was trying to concoct a plan. Byleth had a blank stare, and Annette…

Annette.

She had worked with Hanneman in the past, helping him with research and acting as a TA and tutor for his lower level classes. Her hand was wrapped tightly around Byleth’s, turning the new girl’s fingers white. Her gaze was still focused on the place where Seteth had stood to deliver the news, her eyes filled with tears. They had just started to spill over onto her cheeks, and Felix restrained a bizarre urge to wipe them away with his thumb. Panic and uncertainty filled him. He started to reach out a hand to her, pulled it back, took a deep breath to stay something, and inhaled some saliva. He started coughing, and Annette looked up to him, shaken from her stupor.

“Annette?” Felix asked, recovering himself. 

She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“I know. I don’t either.” He knelt in front of her, and grabbed her free hand. “C’mon, let’s get you back to the common room, ok?” he murmured. Annette swallowed, and nodded. Felix looked to Byleth. “I got her,” he said, detangling their fingers. “Can you walk, Annie?”

He’d never heard anyone but Mercedes call her by that nickname, and it felt strange, but it appeared to give her some kind of comfort, and he was glad to have said it. 

“Yeah, I can walk. Just - keep holding my hand?”

Maybe it was the knowledge of what losing someone close to you felt like, or maybe it was that they were feeling the same shock. He couldn’t put a finger on it, and wouldn’t be able to for a while, but something in the way she looked at him that made his heart lurch. Maybe it was the eyes, normally alight with a joy he thought naive, now so full of sadness, or the braided pigtails that he’d thought of as childish less than an hour ago, now paired with an expression of such genuine sorrow. He couldn’t pinpoint it precisely, but something about her face in this moment completely broke his heart.

He was only distracted for a second. “Yeah, of course. Come on,” he said, pulling her from her seat. “Sylvain?” 

Sylvain strode over. “Yeah?”

“Get her.” Felix nodded at Byleth.

“I’m fine,” Byleth said, standing. “Thanks.” She grabbed Annette’s bag as well as her own, and led them out of the classroom. Sylvain followed, and then Felix with Annette. Felix didn’t know what the other students were doing, and he didn’t much care. The Blue Lions were following instructions, and he was getting Annette out of that room.

He didn’t let go of her hand once during the walk. He was impressed with how well she was holding up, considering how much pain she seemed to be in. He admired that briefly before going back to worrying.

In the Blue Lions common room, he sat Annette down in a chair and ordered Sylvain to make her tea. Then he knelt in front of her, stroking her hand and murmuring all the platitudes he’d hated hearing when his brother died, hoping there was a reason people said them.

“Annie!” came a gasp from behind them.

“Mercie!” Annette straightened in her chair for a moment, before finally bursting into sobs.

Felix didn’t know what to do with sobbing. The quiet tears he could handle, but this was different. Luckily, Mercedes threw her arms around Annette’s neck, knowing exactly everything to say.

“Thank you for staying with her, Felix,” Mercedes smiled. “I can take it from here.”

Felix nodded, feeling equal parts relieved and reluctant. He squeezed Annette’s hand one more time before standing and moving to the back of the room, where Sylvain was catching up Ashe and Ingrid on the whole situation and Byleth sat on a window seat, staring out the window.

“So, what do we do now?” Ingrid asked.

Sylvain shrugged. “Wait for Dimitri, I guess.”

As if summoned, the stained glass door swung open. A worn-looking Dimitri stood in the doorway for a moment, regarding them all carefully. “So, I suppose you’ve all heard by now?” He scanned their faces, wincing when he saw Annette in tears. “Right, well, I’ve just been talking to the Headmistress and Seteth, and they didn’t tell me much, but I can share what they did tell me with anyone who wants to hear it. If you don’t want to hear it,” he glanced at Annette, “you’re welcome to leave.”

Annette looked at Dimitri through red eyes, then around at the others in the room. “Of course I want to know,” she said, her voice thick with tears but unwavering. “I want to know more than anyone.”

“Very well.” Dimitri stood in front of the fireplace to address them all. “Last night, Professor Hanneman...died. His body was found this morning by Professor Eisner.”

“My dad?” Byleth interrupted, sitting up. “My dad found the - Professor Hanneman?”

Dimtri nodded grimly. “Yeah. He’s not suspected to have done anything, though - they ascertained that the time of death was sometime last night, after dinner, maybe around midnight.”

“And how do they know it was murder, not just an accident or something?” Ashe asked, audibly trying to keep a quiver out of his voice.

Dimitri’s jaw clenched. “He was stabbed.”

Silence flattened the room, broken only by a new wave of poorly stifled sobs from Annette. Mercedes pulled her closer, and Felix felt a new flood of that ice water feeling in the pit of his stomach. Someone needed to break the silence with something, anything.

“Do they know who or why?” Felix asked, eliciting a sharp inhale from someone behind him. 

“If they do, they didn’t tell me,” Dimitri responded. “All I know is that it happened last night.” After waiting a moment with no more questions, he continued, “So, logistics: all classes are canceled for the rest of the day, but we’ll go back tomorrow. If you have a class with Professor Hanneman, it’s canceled until they hire a new professor, maybe a couple weeks. They said you should do as much reading from the textbook as you can for now, but I don’t think they really expect you to teach yourselves. I don’t know.” He sighed heavily. “Is there anything else?”

Nobody said anything.

“Right,” Dimitri nodded. “Well, if you need anything else, let me know. I’ll be around. In the meantime, take care of yourselves, ok?” he looked at Annette again, and then Byleth, before turning and leaving the common room, Dedue following on his heels. 

Mercedes led Annette out of the room, whispering quietly to one another. Conversations began to pick up between the other students, and Felix, queasy from the whole situation, left the common room and the chatter behind.

\--

Hours later, at a time close to midnight, Felix sat on the roof of the dorms, the only place besides the ground floor where the boys side and girls side connected, by a door on each side that most students didn’t realize was there. There were a few old forest green adirondack chairs up here, a relic from some long-graduated class of Garreg Mach students who had also liked the peace of the roof. At first, he’d come up here with Dimitri and Sylvain, but at some point, he’d stopped inviting them, electing to use the roof as his own private sanctuary overlooking the serenity of the campus at night.

He was taking sips from a plastic Dasani bottle filled with vodka, brutally strong in the way only young people with limited access to alcohol can stand. He held the same paperback he’d been reading this morning, a flashlight sitting on his shoulder to illuminate the pages, but he wasn’t taking in any of the words he was seeing. Instead, his vision was cast out over the campus, quiet and still in its grieving, lit softly by the full moon. The grass ruffled softly, and he wondered vaguely what could’ve happened if he’d been up here 24 hours ago - what or who he might have seen, what secrets he might know that were now locked away forever.

One of the doors behind him swung open loudly, and he jumped about a foot in the air. In a single smooth motion, he stashed his Dasani bottle, stood up, and spun around, deftly catching his flashlight and pointing it at the intruder. 

“Who the hell are you?” he demanded, his voice louder than demanded.

The girl - as the new roof-goer had come up from the girl’s side door, he realized - winced in the harsh light. “Who am I? Who are you?”

Felix squinted. “Annette?”

She lowered her hands, giving him a better view of her face. “Felix?”

“Yeah,” he said, turning his light to the floor to get it out of her eyes. “Jesus, Annette, you scared the shit out of me.”

“How do you think I feel? I’ve never seen another soul up here before.”

He frowned. “You come up here often?”

“Was that supposed to be a pickup line?” She asked, waving her hand to dismiss it as rhetorical just as he opened his mouth to answer. “Um, no, yeah, I like to come up here to study. Sometimes the dorms get so loud, so…” she drifted off, gazing out over the campus.

“Isn’t that what the library is for?” Felix asked, sitting back in his adirondack and propping his feet up on the ledge.

Annette rolled her eyes. “Yes, but it closes at midnight. The roof is good for late-night studying, something I’m sure you’ve never done.”

“You study after midnight?”

“Exactly.”

“Whatever,” Felix said, shaking his head. “Mind if I stay, though? I promise I’m just reading, nothing rowdy.”

Annette pulled a second adirondack chair next to his, and then added a third, on which she put her books and thermos. “Yeah, that’s fine.” She eyed his book, and after a moments hesitation asked, “So what are you reading? Lemme guess - Steinbeck? Fitzgerald? Orwell?”

Felix raised an eyebrow. “Do you have something against Steinbeck and Orwell?”

“Not necessarily,” Annette shrugged. “But it seems like dark broody types are always reading something an angsty white man wrote in the early 1900s.” 

“I’ll bypass the fact you kind of just insulted me, if you promise not to make fun of me,” Felix said, shielding the cover of his book.

“Make fun of you for what?”

“This,” he said, flipping over the book to reveal  _ Jane Eyre _ on the front. 

Annette nodded, approving. “So instead of an angsty white guy in the 1900s, you went for an angsty white  _ woman _ in the 1800s. Different enough to break my stereotyping, though, so I’m sorry for that.”

Felix shrugged. “Not sure I can be too mad at you for not assuming I read Charlotte Bronte.”

There were few moments of silence, before Annette spoke up again. “So are you liking it?  _ Jane Eyre _ ?”

“Oh, yeah. I mean, I feel like I know where it’s going, but it’s about the journey, not the destination, right?”

Annette smiled. “Yeah, exactly. Let me know when you get to the bird line - you’ll know what I’m talking about. I wanna hear what you think about it.”

“Ok,” Felix nodded. They both went back to their respective reading, and a quiet settled over the roof like a blanket. A small breeze kicked up every now and again, ruffling the pages of Annette’s calculus textbook as she wrote equations in a notebook, the scratch of her pencil a comforting sound in the relative peace. Felix’s fingers itched for the bottle of vodka - he was only on the edge of tipsy, and after a day like today he wanted to get much further - but he felt strange drinking when Annette was so intent on studying. 

Although…

“Wait, how are you already studying? We’ve only had one day of classes, and it was canceled.”

Annette looked up, her eyes and mouth in matching little Os of surprise. “Just trying to get ahead where I can, or refresh what I forgot over the summer. Though to be honest, I’m not getting much done.” She turned her notebook towards him, revealing that she hadn’t been writing out problems like he’d thought, but doodling an array of little animals - penguins and unicorns and turtles. 

Felix smiled at the scribbled menagerie as he twisted in his seat to face her. “You’re doodling instead of studying, and I’m reading  _ Jane Eyre _ . Off brand for both of us.”

Annette smiled, but it drooped into a frown. “Yeah. I guess I’m just having a hard time focusing, what with...everything,” she sighed. 

“Yeah,” Felix murmured, “you’re well-known for pushing yourself through anything, though. Maybe now is the time to relax a little, hm? What do you normally do to relax?”

Annette stared at him. “Um, the normal things, I guess? Like, I usually relax when I shower, unless I’m working through a problem in my head, and usually when I go to sleep I relax.”

Felix let out a sound that was half-laugh, half choking cough. “Annette, no offense, but that is not normal.”

“You know, just because you say  _ no offense _ \--”

“You seriously never relax? Never just take some time to not work?”

Annette rolled her eyes. “Sorry, Mr.  _ Fraldarius _ , but not all of us were born into seven generations of coal money, and not all of us have buckets of natural talent and all the resources we need. Some of us actually have to work to stay at this school, especially considering that some of us are on scholarships.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, Felix choosing his next words very carefully. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right, I don’t have any right to tell you not to work hard. But, as a friend, can I say, you should do something that makes you happy every once in a while?”

Annette stared him a while, her bright turquoise eyes boring into him. “We’re friends?”

“Yeah, sure. We’ve known each other for four years, I think we can say we’re friends.”

Annette bit her cheek, like she took issue with some part of his statement but was fighting the urge to comment on it. “Fine. Ok, remember earlier, when I said I wouldn’t make fun of you for reading  _ Jane Eyre _ ?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then you can’t make fun of me when I tell you what I’m about to tell you!”

Felix leaned in. “Is it at least as embarrassing as  _ Jane Eyre _ ?”

Annette leaned in as well, grinning. “More - way more.”

“I promise.”

Annette took a deep breath and let it out in a huff. “Ok. Sometimes, when I’m alone in my room, cleaning, or watering my plants, or whatever - sometimes, I like to sing.”

Felix raised his eyebrows. “You sing?”

“Hey, you said you wouldn’t make fun of me!”

“I’m not,” Felix grinned, his hands raised in innocence. “I just wanna make sure I get this straight. What exactly are you singing? Please say kpop.”

“Just...whatever comes into my head. Usually about whatever I’m doing.”

“Can I hear sometime?”

“Alright,” she said, and smacked him, a little too hard, across his bicep. “That’s enough out of you.” She sat leaned back to sit upright and looked at him sidelong. “So what do you do to relax? Fencing?”

Felix scoffed. “No, fencing is a job, if anything.” He paused a moment, considering, and then, “Do you actually wanna know how I relax?”

Annette’s brow furrowed. “Yes, I think so.”

“Promise not to tell?”

She relaxed a little. “I think we’ve made so many promises to each other at this point that we might as well just lay down a blanket of trust.”

Felix smiled. “I like that - blanket of trust. In that case,” he pulled out his Dasani bottle from where he had nestled it under his chair, “this is how.” 

He tossed it to her, and she frowned. “Water?”

“It’s not water.”

She twisted off the cap and gave it a small sniff, immediately pulling away. “Is this - alcohol?” she whispered the last word in a harsh, disbelieving voice.

“Yes,” Felix mock-whispered back. “Some of us drink it when we want to relax. It’s not that uncommon.”

“It is to me,” Annette muttered. She gave it another cautious sniff, and wrinkled her nose. “Here, you can have it back.”

“You don’t want any?”

“I’ve never had alcohol. I mean, I had a beer once at a summer party in my hometown, but nothing like this. It smells like what we use in the lab to disinfect the benches.” She shook her head, and tried to hand the water bottle back to him.

“Here - what’s in your thermos?” Felix asked, reaching for it.

“Coffee,” Annette said, handing it over.

“Coffee?” Felix looked shocked. “Annette, it’s almost one in the morning.”

“So?”

“So…” Felix trailed off, abandoning the argument, remembering who he was talking to. “Nevermind. I’m not putting vodka in that,” he handed it back. “Just, try a swig. And then drink your coffee, like a chaser.”

Annette looked at the two drinks doubtfully. “Vodka, then coffee? But you won’t put them together?”

“Trust me, you don’t want them together.” he paused, and then said, “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to. Drink the vodka, I mean. But if you want to, you’re welcome to it. And if you don’t want to right now, but you do later, you can let me know. My illicit water bottles are your illicit water bottles,” he finished with what he hoped was a kind, or at least inviting, smile. 

Annette took a deep breath. “Well, I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge,” she said, and took a huge swig of vodka. To her credit, she choked it down, spluttering and coughing as she went for her coffee.

“Oh, that was an enormous gulp,” Felix said, trying not to laugh as Annette chugged her coffee. “Are you ok?”

“That’s relaxing to you?” she rasped, giggling, tears streaming down her face. 

“Well, not when you do it like that,” he mumbled. For the second time that day, he found himself with the strange urge to wipe the tears from her face, and this time he indulged himself. He reached out, cupping her jaw in his hand and brushing away the tears with his thumbs. His heart thundered in his chest, and he felt the skin of her cheeks warm. The laughing slowed, then stopped, and then their smiles shrank, until they were simply staring at each other, faces inches apart. 

“Um, I should probably go,” Annette murmured. She wrapped her hands around Felix’s wrists and gently pulled his hands away from her face. “I don’t know if this is gonna hit me at some point, or what it’ll be like when it does, but I feel like I might wanna be horizontal.”

“Yeah, yeah, that makes sense,” Felix said, his face on fire. He leaned back in his chair and picked up his book. He watched as Annette gathered her untouched books and her thermos of coffee. 

She straightened, pushing her hair away from her eyes as she looked at him, scanning him quickly from head to toe. “Don’t stay up too late, Felix.”

“I won’t.”

“Promise?” she asked with a coy smile.

“I thought we moved past that.”

“Yeah, we did. Have a good night. And - thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, not asking what she was thanking him for. He watched her as she walked away, a small part of him waiting for her to glance back over her shoulder at him, but she never did, and that ice water feeling churned in his stomach.

The door closed with a thud, and Felix gathered his things and made for the boys’ side door, the roof now far too quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! Thanks for reading! When I published the first chapter, I didn't really have a clear idea as to where this was going, but I've figured a lot of it out now, so a couple updates for ya:
> 
> First, I've narrowed down the POVs from "a few of the Blue Lions" to Byleth, Felix, and Ingrid (and will adjust the summary to reflect this). This way, I get to be mushy about my favorite ships without going overboard on POV switching, and allowing y'all (and me) to develop a stronger narrative connection to just a few narrators (even though it's still omniscient 3rd person....whatever).
> 
> You may have also noticed that I've set the number of chapters at 14, which allows me to get into each of my 3 main characters heads an equal amount, with a couple special chapters in there. Along the same lines, I'm hoping to be able to update every Saturday, around 7 pm, though this is certainly subject to change. All in all, I'm really excited about the plans I have, so I hope you'll stick around! 
> 
> I've also updated the rating M, for some of the violent/bloody content and some language.
> 
> Lastly, if you'd like to chat about this fic or anything else Fire Emblem, feel free to hit me up on Tumblr at silenticarus! 
> 
> Questions? Comments? Guesses on whodunnit? Drop em all below! Thanks again for reading, and I hope you have a lovely week. Cheers!


	3. Dreams and Decay (Ingrid)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! apologies for the late update; had a bit of a busy weekend last week. But I'm back now with my longest chapter to date!
> 
> Just want to give a quick content warning for allusions to suicide in this chapter (and I'll be adding this to the story's tags, too). If you want to skip it, it starts at ""No, Ingrid. Don't do that to yourself" and ends at "And at Ingrid’s command, Ritta took off down the path." This little section is sorta important to the plot, so I'll give a little, less impassioned summary for it in my end notes.
> 
> Ok, that's all for now. Happy reading!

_A strong summer breeze pulled strands of long, cornsilk-colored hair from Ingrid’s braid. She tucked it behind her ear, trying to preserve some sense of togetherness even while wearing the thin-strapped bikini she felt might fall to pieces at any second. She’d been convinced by Annette and Mercedes -- her new school friends -- to buy it a couple months ago, and even then, she’d shoved it into the back of a drawer and forgotten about it. She found it again when packing for this trip, and threw it in her bag. It made her blush to even think about wearing it, and yet she had._

_Sylvain and Felix had teased the shit out of her when she first came downstairs. “Damn, Ingrid, who are you trying to show off for?”_

_She’d been about to turn around and change when a hand came up to smack Sylvain in the back of the head. “Leave her alone, Sylvain. I think you look great, Ingrid.”_

_Glenn turned to her and smiled. There was a swoop in her stomach - the feeling she always got when he turned that smile on her. It wasn’t particularly big or toothy, and there was none of that charming attitude like Sylvain’s smirk had. It was just an average smile, but it backlit his eyes, and it always made Ingrid feel safe. There was something about the smile of a person she admired that made Ingrid feel secure, and there was nobody she admired more than Glenn._

_On the dock behind the Fraldarius family’s lakehouse, Ingrid was sitting cross-legged on the sun-warmed deck, having realized that the bikini, as good as she might look in it, had a low chance of standing up to the kind of roughhousing her friends liked to get involved in. She silently cursed Annette and Mercedes, and swore to wear her normal one piece the next day._

_Glenn swam over from where he and the other boys were taking turns dunking each other. “Hey, Ingrid, you feeling ok?”_

_Ingrid forced herself to smile. “Uh, yeah. Just wanted to get a little sun today.”_

_“If you say so,” Glenn said, slicking back his dark hair with a palm full of lake water, giving her another sun ray smile. He pulled himself halfway onto the dock, resting his chin on his forearms with his lower half still in the water. “But I don’t want you to get burned before our wedding,” he said with a wink._

_Ingrid laughed. Glenn was constantly making the same joke about their wedding as if it was always right around the corner. True, their parents had been pushing them towards each other for years, and Ingrid would be lying to herself if she tried to deny she didn’t feel something for Glenn, but the lighthearted way he understood it all made the pressure of the situation feel a little less crushing._

_Glenn was about to say something else when his eyes went wide. He gave a small gasp, and just as Ingrid was asking, “Glenn?” he disappeared under the water._

_It happened so fast that Ingrid couldn’t even see him as he slipped beneath the surface. The lake was never clear, but it had recently rained, and the muddied waters made it even more difficult to see more than a few inches down. She crawled to the edge of the dock and stared down, waiting for Glenn to resurface. She looked out to the water for Sylvain and Felix, but they were gone too._

_It was just Ingrid, alone, with the glossy surface of the water slowly stilling, hiding away the last she saw of Glenn._

Ingrid woke gasping so hard she began to cough. Her hair was glued to her neck with sweat. She struggled to catch her breath, forcing the air in and out, waiting for the rate of her breathing to slow. When it didn’t, she sat herself up and tucked her head between her legs, forcing herself to relive the memory.

Because it was a memory, not just a dream. If anything, it was half of each, her subconscious twisting a normal, good day into something painful.

On the real day, Sylvain and Felix had teased her for the bikini, and Glenn had defended her, and when she decided to sit on the dock, he came to talk to her - that was all true. And it was also true that he’d been pulled under the water, suddenly and dramatically, like some B horror movie. But the part that the dream got wrong was after. He’d come back up for air. Felix had followed, having been the one to grab Glenn’s ankle in the first place. By the end of that week, Glenn and Ingrid were finally, officially, dating. Glenn was fine; he hadn’t died there.

That wasn’t how it happened.

Ingrid hadn’t had the misfortune of being there when it actually happened, thank god. It was far and away the worst phone call she’d ever received, though - her mother’s voice over the phone, cracking and on the verge of tears even as she was only saying hello -

Ingrid shook her head, forcing the awful memory away. She wouldn’t let herself relive that much. She was at least that kind to herself.

Her breathing finally normal, Ingrid laid back down in her bed and pulled her phone to her. She squinted at the screen as she read the time - 3:14. She threw her phone towards her feet with a heavy sigh and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. Stars erupted across her field of vision and faded, like sparks falling away from a campfire. She sighed again and flung her hands down towards her sides. She rested there for a moment, before, in a flash of movement, she ripped the pillow from below her head, shoved it into her face, and screamed.

She screamed long and loud, over and over, until her throat burned from the force of it and she could taste salt and copper on the back of her tongue. She screamed until there was no air left to fuel her, and then she kept pushing and straining against her own voice, until she had to gasp to pull in more air. She screamed into her pillow until the effort of it made her feel she might throw up.

She pulled the pillow away, the air coming through her window especially cool against the tears she didn’t realize had run down the sides of her face and into her ears. Once she was aware of their presence, she leaned into it, letting the sobs overwhelm her body.

She credited herself with the fact that though the meltdown was big, it was short. She cried for less than a minute before sucking in one last, shaky breath and declaring the whole scene done. She swatted around by her floor until she found her water bottle, heaving the heavy metal bottle into bed with her, and drinking half of it in a single go. If she was going to allow herself to break down, she was going to force herself to rehydrate afterwards.

And, all in all, she felt better. The panic of coming out of the dream was long diminished, and the grief, though overwhelming at first, had become manageable quickly. Ingrid hated crying, but she couldn’t deny the way her sadness seemed to fall away from her as the tears did.

That week at the lake house had been almost perfect. She was excited to go when Felix invited her and Sylvain - Dimitri was in Europe - and even more so when Felix mentioned that Glenn was coming as adult supervision. Ingrid didn’t think it made much sense for a 17 year old Glenn to be their supervision, but by that point she had such an enormous crush on him that she wasn’t going to complain. After that first day, she’d stopped wearing the bikini, favoring the ability to actually be in the water to any ogling by the boys, and besides: she knew it didn’t matter what she wore. She and Glenn had been told as kids that one day, they’d get married, and while they didn’t buy into it at first (kids never could), they did genuinely like each other. Ingrid came to the conclusion that if she was going to have an arranged marriage, she was happy for it to be Glenn, who was always so kind to her and had that perfect, soft smile.

On the second to last night of their lake trip, Glenn had met Ingrid back on the dock. She had never seen him so nervous, and it was almost reassuring to her to know that even Glenn could suffer from butterflies in his stomach. He’d said lots of things, most of which she already knew, about expectations and not wanting to conform just to conform. 

And then, he’d surprised her. “I know us being together is what our parents want, and part of me wants to rebel, but I can’t rebel against this. I really like you, Ingrid.”

Her heart had soared. She had always convinced herself that the way he treated her was friendliness, the way any teenage boy treats his little brother’s friends. To know he felt the same way she did was electrifying.

And then he’d kissed her. Glenn was the only person Ingrid had ever kissed, the only person she’d ever wanted to kiss, and it had felt perfect, even if she had nothing to compare it to.

Now, lying in bed two years later, Ingrid smiled. Even if the parts that came after were horrible, that night was one of the best of her life. She missed Glenn, and at times like tonight that feeling crashed into her like a Mac truck, but calling back to the good parts leached away at some of the pain.

Having experienced nearly the whole range of her emotional capability in about five minutes, and all at 3 am, Ingrid was exhausted. She found her phone again in the tangle of blankets and went to her podcast app, pulling up Science Friday. There was something calming to her about the sound of Ira Flatow’s voice as he talked about the Human Genome project, and she let her mind focus on that, picturing hypnotizing helixes of DNA as she coaxed herself back into sleep. 

\--

Ingrid hauled herself onto her horse’s back, feeling, not for the first time today, the penalties of her late night breakdown. She was grateful to not have a riding lesson today - this ride with Ritta was purely for her own peace. She’d been riding Ritta since middle school, and it was one of many blessings of a fancy private school that she could board her horse here. Ritta was good for Ingrid: good for her nerves, for her anxiety, and for her grief. Ritta was as much an old friend as any of the people she actually had classes with, and unlike any of her human friends, Ingrid didn’t have to deal with annoying conversation when she was with her.

Now, as they walked through the familiar forest path, Ingrid began to relax. Out here, with the autumnal afternoon light filtering through the trees and the wet smell of decaying leaves, the air felt perfectly refreshing, like it could heal the rawness that still scratched the back of Ingrid’s throat. It had been a long day of classes, with a presentation in Environmental Science and a long discussion session in English, and her vocal chords hadn’t had a chance to rest yet. Now, finally, she let her whole self take a break. Thoughts of homework and exams and readings began to slip away, and instead, Ingrid let her thoughts drift to the same place they’d been going for the past few weeks: Hanneman.

Hanneman’s death was nearly a month ago now, but there were still questions that rattled around in Ingrid’s head - things she hadn’t asked at the time out of a sense of decorum, or at least respect to Annette, who’d seemed so torn up. Now, she regretted it.

There was a part of Ingrid that was darkly curious, that bizarrely felt like maybe if she had all the information, she could figure it out. More than anything, she wanted to know about the weapon. In the days after, the police had released very little: mostly just that the professor had been stabbed in the torso somewhere. They hadn’t said what the weapon was, or if they even knew. Ingrid figured it wasn’t shocking that a small town police force like theirs might be slow to piece things together, especially since there didn’t seem to be any witnesses, but still. 

Although Ingrid had wished she’d asked more questions when she had the chance, she could admit that Dimitri likely wouldn’t have had answers if she had. It didn’t seem like he knew much of anything, bless him. He had been a vehicle for whatever Rhea wanted them to know, and Ingrid didn’t envy that position. They had all looked to Dimitri in that moment as if he had all the answers, but he was nothing more than a mouthpiece.

It had always been like that in their friend group of Dimitri, Ingrid, Felix, and Sylvain. Dimitri had always been the de facto leader, through no action or effort of his own. Maybe it was the senatorial blood that ran through him, but Dimitri always gave everyone else the sense that he knew what he was doing and that he should be followed. Felix seemed to be the only one to have any issue with it - Sylvain was only too happy to avoid the spotlight, and Ingrid knew she wasn’t actually hurt by Dimitri’s place in the group. It would be one thing if he tried to exploit the power they gave him, but Dimitri was one of the nicest people Ingrid knew. It helped their relationship that they had something in common, even if it was terrible: they’d both lost people they’d loved.

Of course, Felix had too, but he didn’t grieve like Ingrid and Dimitri did. There were moments, just after Glenn died, when Ingrid was in the deepest trenches of her misery and Felix seemed almost wholly unchanged.

Ingrid had to remember to drag herself out of her own thoughts and enjoy the ride. The lake had come into view, and she coaxed Ritta to a stop so she could stare at it a while. The trees had begun changing color, and fiery splotches of fallen leaves dotted the dark water. Ingrid could feel her brain wanting to go back down the path of her dream last night, and she dug her fingers into the coarse hair of Ritta’s mane, grounding herself where she was.

She was just returning to herself when she heard another set of hoofsteps behind her. She gathered herself quickly, and glanced over her shoulder.

She knew who it was before she could see most of him - the shock of red hair at the top of a very tall rider made Sylvain very recognizable, even through the trees. Ingrid sighed - she should’ve known that her peaceful, solitary ride couldn’t last. She briefly considered having Ritta race off into the woods, but she knew that that would only tempt Sylvain to give chase.

If there’s one thing Sylvain loves, it’s girls who run away from him. Ingrid knew that better than anyone.

“Hey, Ingie!” Sylvain called as he approached. Ingrid shuddered involuntarily. Not only did he have to ruin her alone time, but he had to announce himself with her least-favorite nickname? Sylvain could be truly obnoxious when he wanted to be.

Ingrid twisted in her saddle. “If you’re going to ride with me, you have to put your helmet on.”

“Who said anything about riding with you?” Sylvain grinned, contradictorily retrieving his helmet from where he’d clipped it to his pants and fastening it on his head.

Ingrid rolled her eyes. “Hey, you don’t have to put it on. But when you fall off your horse and your head cracks open, don’t ask me to come pick up your brains.”

“Harsh, Ingie,” Sylvain said, the laughter usually in his voice somewhat dissipated. “You doing ok?”

She raised an eyebrow as their horses fell into step with each other. “Yeah, why?”

Sylvain shrugged. “You only go out on these little peace trots when something’s bothering you, or you’re sad about something.” On seeing Ingrid’s surprised face, he smirked. “What? I pay attention. You’re one of my best friends, Ingrid.” The last was said with more sincerity, and Ingrid pressed her lips into a thin line.

“I’m fine,” she insisted, both for Sylvain’s benefit and her own. “Are _you_ ok? I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you riding out here.”

“What? Nah, me and Brogie come out here all the time. You just wouldn’t notice because you only come out here when you’re sad and preoccupied.”

“Seriously? You’re gonna keep pushing this?”

Sylvain shrugged. “Until either you give me a real answer or you, like, beat me up or something.”

“Tempting,” Ingrid said dryly. “Actually, I don’t have reason to beat you up, but I do have a bone to pick.”

“Uh oh,” Sylvain muttered. “Should Brogie and I start running?”

“Not yet, I wanna talk first.” Ingrid liked scaring Sylvain, even though he was probably faking most of his fear. “Do you want to take a guess as to what I want to talk to you about?”

Sylvain screwed up his face in mock concentration. “Boy, based on past conversations, I’m guessing it has to do with a girl?”

“A _freshman_ , Sylvain? Do you seriously have no respect for anyone, including yourself?”

“Hey, you wouldn’t have complained about a freshman three years ago.”

“That’s because we _were_ freshmen three years ago,” Ingrid muttered.

Sylvain scoffed. “Yeah, that was the joke,” he mumbled. “Listen Ingrid, we didn’t even do anything. I don’t know who you’ve talked to or what they told you, but I swear I haven’t deflowered any freshman. I don’t think I’ve even kissed any freshman this year, unless someone lied to me about how old they were.”

“That is not as good a defense as you think it is.”

“Alright, well, what do you want from me?”

“What I want is for you to stop being such a slut -”

“Ingrid!”

“- but since that clearly isn’t going to happen any time soon, I at least want you to stop telling them about me.”

“About...you?” Sylvain had gone from defensive, to scandalized, to confused, all in a matter of seconds, and Ingrid worried for the effect that kind of emotional whiplash could have on such a simple creature, but she got over it quickly.

“Yes. They always come to either ask my advice or cry to me, and it’s always because at some point in your flirting, you will have mentioned that I’m your friend! It makes them think they can trust me, or that I have insider information. What’s that about, anyway? Is it some flirting tactic? Let them know you have a girl best friend so they think you’re, what, in-tune with women somehow? Because that’s really low, Sylvain, and I don’t appreciate being used like that.”

“Whoa, whoa, ok, calm down, Ingrid, you’re gonna spook the horses.” Ingrid loosened her grip on Ritta’s reins, but only slightly. Her jaw and shoulders were extremely tense, and she fought to relax them now that the big part of her outburst was over. “First of all, I’m sorry they come to you. They shouldn’t do that, but I realize that I’m the reason they do. So, secondly, I’m sorry for mentioning you, but it’s not a flirting tactic, I swear. When you’re getting to know someone, sometimes you talk about your friends. I guess I do like bragging about you, but not for the reasons you think?”

“Why, then?” Ingrid asked, her voice beginning to go hoarse again.

Sylvain laughed through his nose. “Because you’re super fucking cool, Ingrid. I mean, I could be meeting the president, and I’d still want to - whoa, Ingrid, why are you crying?”

“What?” She reached up a hand and found a track of tears had made its way down her cheek. “Oh,” she murmured, and swiped at it. “I don’t know, I didn’t even realize it was happening.”

Sylvain frowned, and then an expression of realization fell over his face like a sunrise. “Oh. _Oh_. Oh, Ingrid, I’m so sorry.”

She wrinkled her nose at him and continued to mop at her face. Like last night, the realization that she was crying only seemed to make it worse, and her breath was starting to get shaky. “What are you sorry for? I’m fine.”

Sylvain’s face softened. It was the look her mother gave her when she knew Ingrid was lying to avoid getting in trouble. It was a pitying look; a _you can’t hide this from me, honey_ look. “I didn’t realize how this might all be affecting you.”

“How - what?” Now Ingrid was genuinely confused.

“This. Everything. With Hanneman.” Ingrid felt a jolt in her stomach. She hadn’t connected the bad dreams and the resurging grief to Hanneman - why would she care about a teacher she had as a freshman? But of course it makes sense. Leave it to Sylvain to see right through her. “I didn’t realize it would bring up old memories - Glenn stuff. I’m really sorry, Ingrid, I should’ve figured that out sooner.”

Ingrid shook her head, and directed her gaze toward the horn of her saddle. “I didn’t even realize it myself until last night.”

“What happened?”

Ingrid peeled her gaze away from the saddle, and back to Sylvain. Theirs was a strange relationship - it felt like they spent as much time being enemies as they did being friends. Ingrid was constantly chasing after him, cleaning up his messes, and she knew she antagonized him just as much with her superiority act. But now, looking at him, she knew he was a friend, in this moment at least. Even if she’d be back to being pissed at him in an hour, she had him right now. Even his appearance, with his warm brown eyes focused on her and only her, and the tuft of red hair sticking out of one of the holes at the front of his helmet, conveyed nothing but his friendliest state of being. He was like a puppy dog, really - maybe a bit naive, and often getting into trouble, but completely and totally loyal. 

It was on that basis of loyalty that she asked, “promise not to tell Felix?”

Sylvain gave her an encouraging smile. “Trust me, I learned to stop bringing up Glenn with Felix a long time ago.”

“Ok,” she said, and began telling her story. “Remember the summer after freshman year, we went to their lake house? And on that first day, I wore that bikini?”

“Oh, I remember the bikini,” Sylvain grinned.

“Seriously?”

“Right, yeah, sorry. Go ahead.”

“Well, I didn’t go in the water that day, because I didn’t trust the bikini. And Glenn came over to talk to me, and while we were talking, Felix dragged him under the water.”

Sylvain frowned. “Yeah, but he came right back up.”

Ingrid shook her head, her braid whacking against her shoulders. “Not in my dream. In my dream, that was it. And you guys were gone too. And I was alone.” Ingrid looked out over the lake. They were almost on the opposite side from where they’d been when Sylvain had caught up to her. The wind sent small waves across the surface, but it was otherwise still. Ingrid shuddered involuntarily, and turned back to Sylvain. “When Glenn died, I wasn’t there. I didn’t have to bear witness. And that’s good, I think. But at the same time, the last time I saw him was the last time. And part of me thinks what I could’ve said or done -”

“No, Ingrid. Don’t do that to yourself. Glenn was depressed. There was nothing any of us could’ve done, not you, not Felix, not anyone.”

Ingrid shook her head. “ _I_ should have been able to do something.”

“Why? Because you were his girlfriend?”

“Because I was his fiancee!”

“Oh, please, that wasn’t real.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Sylvain knew it was the wrong thing to say, and Ingrid knew that he knew it. But that didn’t stop the blazing rage that was suddenly lit in her chest.

“It wasn’t _real_ ? I’m sorry, what part makes it not real? The fact that I was 16, or that he was 18? That I was still in high school? That we were only officially together for a year? Or is it not _real_ because it was arranged? Because I can guarantee you, Sylvain, that regardless of any of that, Glenn and I were going to get married. Yes, because it was arranged, but also because _I loved him_ , and he loved me. My only regret is that I didn’t love him enough to save him, and I will carry that with me for the rest of my life.” And at Ingrid’s command, Ritta took off down the path. 

In contrast to the last two times it had happened that day, Ingrid was now fully aware that she was crying. The tears came hot and fast, and it was all she could do to keep her vision clear enough to keep Ritta in line. They made it back to the stables, and luckily there was nobody else around to see her as she took care of Ritta with a tear-stained face. By the time she left the stables, you would no longer be able to tell that she had been crying, although her eyes remained a bit rimmed with red. Sylvain, blissfully, did not return to the stables until she had long gone.

\--

It wasn’t until dinner the next night that Sylvain mounted his apology. He had known Ingrid long enough to know to give her space for about a day, and then come in swinging with the groveling. He also knew the best way to apologize to her, having learned through an immense amount of experience.

“What’s this?” Ingrid asked of the paper bag he’d dropped in front of her.

“I stopped by the cafe across the street on my way over. Got your favorite,” Sylvain said, not yet sitting down.

“Blueberry muffin?” Ingrid asked, as Felix pawed at the bag to peek inside.

“ _Two_ blueberry muffins?” Felix asked, shocked. Ingrid snatched the bag away to see for herself. Indeed, two of the world’s best, biggest, blueberry muffins sat inside, the scent of them alone enough to make Ingrid want to throw away her dinner. “Holy shit, Sylvain, I don’t think I’ve ever seen two apology muffins. What the hell did you do?”

Ingrid and Sylvain shared a glance. Ingrid raised her eyebrows - _this is on you_ , she seemed to say.

“I said something stupid. Actually, something monumentally stupid. Maybe the stupidest thing I’ve ever said. So stupid, in fact, that it should never be repeated,” he said, looking meaningfully at Felix, who raised his hands in defeat. “Ingrid,” Sylvain continued, “I want you to know that what I said was wrong. And not just morally wrong, but factually incorrect. I knew that before I said it, and I know it now. I don’t know what possessed me, and I’m really, really, sorry.”

Truth be told, Ingrid wouldn’t have really needed an apology to be able to trust Sylvain again. It was the nature of their relationship that he was constantly pissing her off in new ways. But he wasn’t a bad person, just contradictory to herself, and when they weren’t fighting, they actually got along really well - that was apparent by the entire conversation they’d had before Sylvain had put his foot in his mouth. Maybe it wasn’t exactly healthy, but they did love each other. Still, Ingrid appreciated that he always worked on his apologies, because they always felt more real. Plus, she would never say no to a blueberry muffin.

“You may sit,” she said, as her way of accepting his apology. Sylvain did so happily, and began to dig into his own plate of food. “So,” Ingrid said, switching subjects as if there had never been a rift in the first place, “your new bio teacher started today, right? How is he?”

Felix and Sylvain looked at each other and shrugged. “He’s fine,” Felix said, shrugging. “Not as quirky or excited about science and stuff as Hanneman was, but seems like a good enough teacher.”

“He’s annoyed that they won’t let him into Hanneman’s lab until the end of the school year,” Sylvain added. “I guess they’re keeping the lab closed until they know the guy’s gonna be permanent.” 

“Weird,” Ingrid said, “but I guess it makes sense if they don’t want to invest in a new project.”

Sylvain leaned in. “Or?”

“Or what?”

“Come on, Ingrid, I heard that little upward inflection in your voice. You think there’s another reason they’re keeping the lab closed?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Sylvain shook his head. “Ingrid, I can tell you with 98% confidence that I had the same thought.”

Ingrid perked up. As usual, Sylvain was right on track with her. “That they’re keeping it closed because they think there might be evidence?”

Sylvain touched one finger to the side of his nose. “Bingo.”

Felix furrowed his brow. “If he was killed in his apartment, what evidence would be in his lab?”

Ingrid shrugged. “The research itself? Maybe he was working on something top secret and someone found out.”

“Ooh, like a government hit?” Sylvain nodded. “That’s interesting, that could be something.”

“Not that I usually support your schemes, but you especially shouldn’t be talking about this here. Someone could think you’re being mocking,” Felix said. Ingrid thought he was joking, but he was looking worriedly towards the front of the great hall, like he was waiting for an eavesdropper to walk in. 

“Sorry,” Sylvain and Ingrid both muttered. They went back to eating their food in silence, until Sylvain spoke up again. “Seriously, though, Ingrid, I would love to get your thoughts on all this sometime, seeing as you’re the expert.”

Ingrid nearly choked on her food. “Excuse me? How am I the expert?”

Sylvain’s eyes went wide. “No no no, not _that_ , Jesus. I just meant because you read so many mystery books!”

This was true. Ingrid had read nearly every good mystery series she could find. She’d started with the _A to Z Mysteries_ as a kid, and the obsession had only grown. She had now read most of Agatha Christie’s books and all of _Sammy Keyes_ , and had read a couple Janet Evanovich books. She’d also, technically, read some James Patterson, but Sylvain and Felix had learned not to mention his name for fear of a 15 minute rant that Ingrid had basically memorized.

All this is to say, Ingrid liked murder mysteries.

“Well, yeah, but, so? Just because I read them, doesn’t mean I know anything about solving an actual murder.”

Sylvain leaned in to whisper, “yeah, well I bet you could do a better job than whatever half-rate cops are supposed to be working on this, ‘cause they clearly don’t know anything.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes. “I’m flattered, Sylvain, but you’re being ridiculous.”

“Fine, fine. But, you know,” Sylvain said, taking on his _I’ve got a fun idea_ voice, “every detective needs a sexy assistant, and I’m more than willing to help if you choose to be the hero.”

Ingrid found her palms itching. This was so, so unlike anything she ever did or wanted to do. But there were questions that had been bothering her, things she still wanted to know. And if the cops weren’t going to figure it out, why not her? Besides, she needed a good distraction from the constant wake replaying in her mind, and why not this?

She looked over at Felix, who was already shaking his head. “Leave me out of this.”

Ingrid looked back to Sylvain, who was wearing his best shit-eating grin. “Ok,” Ingrid said slowly, and when Sylvain didn’t back down, she pressed on. “Let’s solve a murder.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> James Patterson DNI.
> 
> As promised, a summary of the CW part of the story: Sylvain tells Ingrid that she couldn't have done anything about Glenn's death, and she says she should've been able to because they were engaged. Sylvain says that their engagement wasn't real, and that pisses Ingrid off in a big way. She yells at him and leaves.
> 
> Also, just wanted to throw out that Ingrid and Sylvain's horses names are references to their English voice actors, Brittany Cox and Joe Brogie!
> 
> Next time, we'll be back to Byleth's POV! Any guesses about whodunnit? Comments, questions, concerns? Drop em below! All kudos and comments are so so appreciated, and I thank everyone who's done so thus far. Y'all fuel me.


	4. Romeo and Juliet and Dimitri (Byleth)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, remember how I said this was part murder mystery, part high school teen drama? This is the silly high school drama part.

Last October, Byleth and her father had been in the mountains of Southern California, doing campground maintenance before winter set in. The October before that, they’d been in Florida, with Jeralt doing a turn as a groundskeeper at the University of Florida football stadium, and sneaking Byleth in on game days to take photos from the sideline. They’d spent several Octobers in a row in a Texas haunted house, with Jeralt as a chainsaw wielding maniac and Byleth as a haunted doll. Byleth didn’t mind any of these jobs - in fact, the haunted house had been one of her all time favorites - but it all resulted in her not being able to remember a real Northern autumn.

The wind was the worst part. In the south, any breeze was a blessing, but it was awful in Massachusetts. Byleth would leave her dorm room dressed appropriately for the weather listed in her phone, only to be nearly frozen by bitter wind. Dealing with and dressing for the fickle weather had quite the learning curve, apparently, and Byleth had yet to get a handle on it.

It was how she’d come to staring out the library window with a feeling of dread growing in her stomach. People outside were walking with their arms folded around them, wind nearly taking off their hats. Byleth glanced down at her blazer, the only layer she’d worn today, and mourned for her future self. 

“So that just leaves Romeo and Juliet,” Ingrid said, pulling Byleth’s focus. All of the Blue Lion seniors were squished in around a single long table in the library’s biggest study room, which still wasn’t made for eight people. “And Byleth and Dimitri are the only ones who didn’t volunteer for smaller roles, so I guess they get the leads.”

Byleth’s heart skipped several beats. “Wait, what? Sorry, I sorta zoned out.”

“And luckily you did,” Sylvain said, throwing her one of his trademark grins. “Now you get to be Juliet.”

“Oh, n-no,” Byleth tried to protest, but Ingrid was shaking her head.

“Juliet barely has any lines in act 5, anyway; you’ll be fine. Basically all you do is wake up and die.”

“Well, yeah, but it’s not really about the _number_ of lines, exactly.”

“Don’t worry, Byleth,” Dimitri said, placing a warm hand on her wrist, “if I have to be Romeo, you can be Juliet. Everyone here can attest to the fact that I’m a pretty awful actor.”

 _You being Romeo is half the problem_ , Byleth thought.

This whole project seemed like a plot line from a teen soap opera. The English department was putting on a full production of _Romeo and Juliet_ , with different groups performing each act in different adaptations. The seniors of each house had to do a whole act on their own, with actual drama students taking care of the other two. It was tradition, apparently, to have the upperclassman perform Shakespeare for the lowerclassmen, the teachers, and, even worse, whoever in the community wanted to see it. Byleth would’ve thought nobody would want to come see something students were doing as a grade, but according to Annette, the fall Shakespeare production usually sold out faster than the drama program’s actual productions did. This was Byleth’s worst nightmare - she had never acted in her life. Sylvain had tried to comfort her by saying it was basically like lying with lots of chances to practice, but, as Byleth had pointed out, she’d spent her whole life with just her dad in an RV, and so had never even lied before. Sylvain had mostly lost interest in trying to help after that.

Ingrid, at least, was taking charge as director, with Annette assisting her as creative director, whatever that meant. Together, they’d come up with the idea of setting their act as if the Capulets and Montagues were actually at war, with Romeo and Juliet heading up their own respective troops, and the crypt taking the form of a battleground medical tent. Ashe had already shown off some sketches of cardboard armor he was confident he could construct in the allotted time, and Felix had reluctantly agreed to choreograph the fight scene between Romeo and Paris, as the only one with any real sword fighting experience, even if it was just as a fencer. Byleth was grateful that the rest of her classmates were such control freaks, and studious ones, at that, because she’d ended up with the sole responsibilities of learning lines and painting sets.

“Ok, so here’s the game plan,” director Ingrid started. “The play is next Saturday, so we don’t have a ton of time. Let’s plan on meeting again in two days. Sylvain, Annette and I will work on the new script, and we’ll give you your copies then.”

Dedue raised his hand. “Excuse me, I have a request.”

Ingrid stifled a sigh. “Yes, Dedue, I know. You want your lines as short as possible. I’ll do my best.”

“Thank you.”

“Anyone else?” Ingrid waited for just a moment, before finishing. “Ok, cool. We’ll pick this up Wednesday.”

“Finally,” Sylvain said, stretching as he stood, his hands high above his head, so that his fingers just brushed the low ceiling. “Dinner, everyone?”

There was a chorus of general agreement as the whole group shoved their books into their bags and stood, the scraping of their chairs an awful cacophony. Only Byleth stayed sitting, her head in her hands, still trying to process this absurd casting choice.

“Hey, you coming?” Dimitri nudged her with his knee. 

Byleth looked up. He was smiling at her, his expression a mix of pity and reassurance. “Yeah, sorry. I can’t believe I stopped listening for two minutes and got put in the lead.”

Dimitri laughed. “Yeah, well, if it makes you feel any better, I was waiting for Benvolio, only to find out that apparently, he isn’t even in this act.”

Byleth grinned. “We should not be the leads.”

“No, we should not.” The pair followed the rest of their classmates through the library halls and down the stairs. The atrium was a huge room with a high ceiling topped with skylights. Glancing up, Byleth caught a glimpse of the violet sky she’d momentarily be walking under.

All things considered, the school year was going well, not that Byleth had much to compare it to. She was getting mostly Bs, not yet used to the structured exams in silent rooms. Her father had quizzed her as they went along, never requiring her to memorize anything she could easily find in a book, and Byleth was finding it difficult to adjust. Teachers kept reminding their classes to remember their “test-taking strategies,” a phrase Byleth had to google that night on her ancient laptop. She was used to bearing some of the responsibility of teaching herself, but the new meta was confusing.

She was grateful for the fact that in every class she had, there was some form of study group made up of other Blue Lions in her class. The only exception to this was introductory French, as all the seniors had already taken their beginner language classes, but she was happy to fall in with a couple of freshmen from the Black Eagles who seemed nice enough, if a bit snobby.

Shuffling from study group to study group was nice, too, because it allowed her to mix with all of her housemates at some point. Sylvain, Annette, and Felix were in her AP Biology class, Ashe and Mercedes in her World Religions class, Dimitri and Dedue in Calculus, and so on. It was perfect for Byleth - she got to know everyone, without feeling like she was being clingy to anyone in particular.

Though she did tend to spend most of her meals with Dimitri in some form, whether it was the two of them or a larger group. She couldn’t resist - he always asked, and it seemed crazy to say no, when he was handsome and nice and offered. When she brought up this anxiety to her father, he’d laughed at her.

“You think you’re being too clingy? By doing what, exactly? Saying yes when someone asks you to eat with them?

Byleth had shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, I don’t know. What if he’s just asking to be nice and he wants me to say no?”

Jeralt had shaken his head. “Kid, nobody asks if they want you to say no, and especially not teenage boys. Maybe I should’ve socialized you earlier.”

Byleth had wrinkled her nose at this. “Are you saying I’m not socialized?”

“Yes,” Jeralt had said matter-of-factly, “but it’s not an insult, so don’t go getting all mad. I just mean that interacting with kids isn’t the same as interacting with your dad, or other adults, for that matter. Just - be nice and try to have fun, ok?”

So he had been about as helpful as a headache.

With every meal, though, the tension eased a little bit more. Whether he was faking it or not, Dimitri did a very good job of making sure that Byleth felt welcome. And while Byleth didn’t want to waste her one year at a normal school wrapped up in a guy, she couldn’t shake the fluttering feeling in her stomach every time he flashed that smile, or the chill that ran across her skin anytime he touched her, whether it was purposeful or not.

Now, though, she had a chill for an entirely different reason, as the wind she’d been worried about in the library cut through her blazer like needles. She shivered once, and tucked her hands between her elbows and her ribcage to protect them from the chill. 

Dimitri cocked his head at her, frowning. “Byleth, do you not have a coat?”

Byleth’s cheeks flushed red, both from the cold and embarrassment. “Oh, no - I mean I do own one, I just didn’t realize it would be so cold today - what’s that?”

She was only a few words into her explanation when Dimitri started rooting around in his messenger bag, fishing a black hoodie out from its depths. “Here,” he said, handing it to her. “Can’t have our Juliet freezing to death because she forgets to check the weather.”

Byleth felt her blush deepen, but from the sly upturn at the corner of Dimitri’s mouth, she knew his teasing was all in fun. “Thank you,” she said, trading the sweatshirt for her backpack, Dimitri holding it for her as she slid into his sweatshirt. It was too long on her by several inches, and she bunched the ends of the sleeves up in her palms to act as makeshift mittens. If you had asked Byleth earlier, she wouldn’t have said Dimitri had a distinct smell, but there was something she recognized in the scent of the sweatshirt. It smelled clean, like laundry detergent, with something lighter on top, like cantaloupe and sage. She resisted the urge to bury her nose in it, and took her bag back from Dimitri before she could embarrass herself more than she already had.

“Warmer?” he asked.

“Yes, much.”

At dinner, Sylvain warred with Ingrid to prevent the meal from becoming an extended brainstorming session for their project. “Ingrid, I swear,” Sylvain said, reaching his long arms around her to grab both of her wrists and raise them above her head. “As long as you are talking about Shakespeare, you don’t get to eat.”

“Syl _vain_!” Ingrid protested, thrashing in his grip, “you can’t starve me!”

“Oh, I can, and I will,” he said, his cheek pressed into Ingrid’s hair. “You have to choose - food, or school.”

Ingrid’s head fell back onto the arm Sylvain had wrapped around her back. “Fine, I choose food,” she said.

“Right choice,” Sylvain said, releasing his grip. They were acting huffy, but Byleth noticed that they’d both been grinning throughout the entire affair.

The conversation carried into more pleasant subjects, though it did eventually turn to Byleth once Ashe caught wind of her previous way of life.

“So it was like one big adventure? Every day?”

“Well, not every day,” Byleth reasoned. “We usually stayed in each place for weeks or months at a time, so…”

After that, she was peppered with questions from everyone, and told some of her best stories of her nomadic lifestyle. Suddenly, and without much effort, Byleth had found herself at the center of the Blue Lions’ interest, and she didn’t quite know what to do with all of the attention. She just kept talking, and they kept listening, and soon, dinner had lasted two hours, and they were being shooed from the dining hall by the Golden Deer on clean-up duty.

Back in the first floor hallway of the dormitory, the group fractured. Ingrid and Annette went to work on the Romeo and Juliet script, Sylvain following along to ‘help,’ though Byleth figured he had no intention to do anything helpful. Felix went upstairs claiming he had reading to do, and everyone else went to their rooms or the common area with similar intentions, until it was Dimitri and Byleth in the hall together.

“Oh, here,” Byleth said, taking off the sweatshirt.

Dimitri put his hands on her elbows to stop her. “No, keep it,” he said, a strange look on his face.

“Are you sure?” Byleth asked, her arms still up, halfway through pulling it over her head.

“Yeah, wouldn’t want you getting cold again,” Dimitri said, a sly smile creeping up his face. “Besides, it looks better on you.”

Byleth’s heart stutter-stepped in her chest. “Oh, I - there’s no way that’s true,” she said, immediately wishing she hadn’t.

But Dimitri’s smile only grew wider. “No, it does. Promise,” he said, squeezing her elbow. “Goodnight, Byleth.”

“Goodnight,” she said, watching as he retreated to the boys’ end of the corridor, swiped his ID card, and went into the boys-only stairwell. Only once he was out of sight did she finally lower her elbows and drop the hem of the sweatshirt. Then, she turned and walked as quickly as she could back to her own room, shutting the door firmly behind her. The second she was alone, she buried her nose in the sweatshirt, finally inhaling the sweet cologne that lingered there.

\--

“Ok, meet high, low, high, apart!” Felix instructed over the sound of pretend swords clattering together. Dimitri and Sylvain sprung apart at Felix’s instruction, and then circled each other. “Ok, again, up, down, up, circle, Sylvain, throw!” After a short stalemate, Dimitri successfully disarmed Sylvain, who somewhat convincingly threw his sword to the back of the stage. “Dimitri, finish him!”

With no weapon, Sylvain as Paris was defenseless, leaving Dimitri’s Romeo free to charge in and stab him right below the sternum. As the tip of the fake sword connected with Sylvain’s stomach, Dimitri clicked the button on the sword’s hilt, collapsing the sword and completing the illusion that Sylvain had been run through.

“Oh! I am slain!” Sylvain yelled melodramatically, clutching his make believe wound. “If thou hast any mercy, you cur, lay me next to Juliet! HRK!” and with one last, loud grunt-shout, Sylvain collapsed.

“Ok!” Ingrid said, clapping her hands together. “That’s coming along nicely - good job, Felix. Sylvain, maybe cut the ad libs?”

“Did you call me a cur?” Dimitri asked, extending a hand to help Sylvain up. 

“You deserved it,” Sylvain said, accepting the hand. “You hit me in the exact same spot every time,” Sylvain grumbled, taking his hand from Dimitri’s and rubbing at the sore spot on his stomach.

“It’s a shame he’s not a better actor, he’s got such a flair for the dramatics,” Mercedes whispered in Byleth’s ear. On the Blue Lions’ one weekend rehearsal, Byleth and Mercedes had spent most of the time watching from atop Juliet’s deathbed just offstage. 

Byleth laughed. “Not that any of us can do better.” The task of taking on Juliet despite having no acting experience had become much less scary after their first rehearsal, where Byleth discovered that not one person in their house could act. Annette was maybe the sole exception, but she’d taken on such a small role as Lady Capulet that it didn’t matter. Byleth had offered to trade her for Juliet, but Annette had refused with a wink, which had just been confusing.

“Ok everyone, let’s move on,” Ingrid directed. “Can we get the medical tent set out, please?”

Mercedes and Byleth hopped down from their perch and moved first the tent, and then the cot that would serve as Juliet’s deathbed onto the stage. Byleth sat down on the cot, ready to take her place as the half-dead heroine when Ashe called out to her.

“Oh, Byleth, don’t lay down yet!” He scurried over to her and began fussing at her back. “The armor isn’t quite finished, and I’m afraid it’ll get squashed if you lay on it.” 

“Oh,” Byleth said, lifting her arms to try and facilitate getting the painted cardboard off of her. Ashe had accomplished something kind of spectacular in the week since they first met as a group, spending every night in the art building constructing and painting suits of armor out of paper and cardboard. Because they’d decided to set their adaptation in a medieval battlefield, everyone but Ashe and Mercedes, as the friars, needed armor. It had been a monster undertaking, and Byleth didn’t expect Ashe to finish, let alone produce something that looked good, but he’d done it. He’d tried to give credit to Dedue, who had apparently helped him most nights, but not a single person accepted that, least of all Dedue. The last thing Byleth wanted to do now was ruin part of the art Ashe had made.

Once he’d collected all the pieces of her breastplate, Byleth laid down on the cot. She looked up at the stage lights, blinking in their brightness, when Dimitri’s head blocked out the light.

“You ready?”

Byleth gave him a thumbs up. “Yep. Are you?”

Dimitri nodded, the light above him framing his golden hair like a halo. “I was thinking I might try the stage kiss Annette was talking about, if that’s ok with you?”

When they first blocked out the scene, Ingrid had asked if they were going to actually kiss at the end. When they hesitated, Annette suggested a form of stage kiss, where one person puts their hand on the other’s cheek in a way that looks romantic to the audience while allowing them to put a thumb between the two sets of lips. Up until now, Dimitri had always gotten around it by blowing Byleth a kiss, but Ingrid was getting on his case about _doing it right_ , especially since they’d cut the second kiss in favor of Byleth slowly lowering Dimitri’s visor over his face, a choice Ingrid claimed was actually more romantic but that only she really understood.

“Um, yeah, that’s fine.” Byleth nodded, a flush creeping into her cheeks at the thought of even having Dimitri’s thumb on her lips.

“Cool,” Dimitri nodded. He gave her a quick grin, then left her field of vision. “Ready, Ingrid?”

“Yep, go for it, Dimitri.”

Byleth shut her eyes and listened to Dimitri run through his monologue. Ingrid had done a good job of cutting a lot of it and making it easier, but it was still a long piece of speech. She listened as Dimitri grabbed her hands and mourned, occasionally brushing her cheek or touching her hair, and Byleth fought not to laugh or move at the touch.

“Eyes, look your last. Arms, hold up your last shield. And lips, from whence come cries of victory, seal with a righteous kiss my fate of death.” 

Byleth’s jaw tensed involuntarily as Dimitri placed his hand on her cheek, and she hoped distantly that he couldn’t feel her skin heat up under his palm. He covered her lips with his thumb, and Byleth opened her eyes, just a little, to see Dimitri lean in to kiss her. His eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks, his eyebrows ever so slightly knit in concentration, and just seeing him so close felt like a marvel. Byleth’s heart started thundering in her chest, and she quickly closed her eyes again. The warmth disappeared as Dimitri sat back up to finish his soliloquy.

“Come, dark chariot! Come, unsavory guide! Here’s to my love. Oh, cruel mistress of nature, thy drugs are quick. Thus, with a kiss, I die.” There was a tumbling sound as Romeo collapsed, dead. 

At the edge of the stage, Byleth heard Mercedes shuffle onto the stage, but Ingrid yelled, “Stop! Ok, stop.”

Byleth sat up, putting her feet down on either side of the cot to stabilize herself.

“Look, I don’t want to be mean, and I don’t want to make you guys do something you’re not comfortable with,” Ingrid started, placing her palms on the stage and staring at her fingers as she tried to decide how to phrase her next statement. “But this is for a grade, and that kiss sucked.” She snapped her head up to glare at Dimitri.

Byleth felt her eyes widen. “Oh,” Dimitri said, sounding about as put-off as Byleth felt. “But, Annette said that was what we should do.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Annette said, joining Ingrid at the foot of the stage. “I thought it would be ok, but you could totally tell you just put your thumb there. Ingrid’s right.”

“Also,” Ingrid went on, shifting her gaze from Dimitri to Byleth, “Byleth, don’t open your eyes. You’re supposed to be dead.”

Where a minute ago, Byleth had been flushed red, she could now feel all the blood drain away from her face. She heard a snicker offstage - Felix and/or Sylvain, probably - and nodded. “Yeah, ok, sorry.”

Ingrid sighed. “I know it’s weird, but can you guys just kiss for real? If not in rehearsals, will you at least figure it out by the performance? It’s a crucial moment, and I don’t want to botch it.”

Byleth held in a sigh, and nodded. “Yeah, of course, Ingrid.”

Dimitri turned sharply to look at her, eyebrows raised.

“Oh, sorry, Dimitri,” Byleth said. “Uh, only if you’re ok with it too, I mean.” All the blood returned to Byleth’s face, and she began to worry for her health - surely going red and white and red like this wasn’t good for her circulation.

Dimitri considered Byleth for a moment, before turning back to Ingrid. “Sure, that’s fine.” There was a strange tone in voice - almost like he struggled to get the words out. “I’ll go back to blowing her kisses for rehearsal, if that’s ok then?”

“Fine, whatever,” Ingrid allowed. “Let’s start this part again, ok?”

Dimitri stood and looked over at Byleth again, giving her an appraising up-and-down before walking back off stage. Byleth laid back down with a huff, closing her eyes and preparing to die all over again.

\--

An hour later, they’d run the whole thing through twice, the last time without Felix directing the fight scene, and Ingrid declared them all sufficiently rehearsed for the day. They all helped Ashe carry the armor pieces back to the art building before scattering to the rest of their Sunday afternoon activities. Byleth had started to head to the library when Dimitri grabbed her elbow.

“Byleth, can we speak for a moment?”

“Yeah, of course,” she said, turning to him. “Is this about the...the kiss?”

Dimitri smiled. “I was gonna start by asking how you are, but we can jump to that.”

Byleth tucked a piece of hair behind her ear nervously. “Sorry,” she muttered.

“No, Byleth, it’s fine, I just - ah, nevermind.” Dimitri trailed off. “Um, anyway, I wanted to ask, without Ingrid around, if you’re really ok with doing the kiss on Saturday?”

Byleth drew in a shaky breath. “Oh, yeah, well, it’s like Ingrid said, right? Romeo and Juliet kiss, and we’re Romeo and Juliet, so we should kiss. And it’s for a grade, so...”

Dimitri waved his hand in the air as if to clear the sentiment away. “Forget about the grades. I don’t want to kiss you if you don’t want to be kissed, especially considering you won’t be able to stop me.”

Byleth smiled in spite of herself. “I really appreciate that, Dimitri. Seriously, that’s really good of you.” He returned her smile, and she felt more sure of what she wanted to say next. “I think it’ll be ok, though. Really,” she added, when he lifted his eyebrows questioningly.

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Ok,” Dimitri nodded, slowly. “I’ll kiss you, then.”

“Ok,” Byleth said, and she tried not to be too excited about it.

\-- 

On Saturday night, Byleth lingered backstage. Ashe had asked them all not to move around too much or sit down or lie down or anything other than stand still while wearing the fragile armor, but Byleth couldn’t help pacing around the green room. Her anxiety only rose as they got through the play - the rave of a ball scene, the blatant rip off of West Side Story for the balcony scene, and the deeply bizarre cats vs dogs set up of act 4, until it was finally the Blue Lions’ turn.

“Ok, everyone.” Ingrid said as they gathered in a quick huddle in the short intermission. “You know your lines, you know your blocking, you’ve seen everyone else - we’re clearly the best one. So just go out there, and do what we rehearsed - or, in some cases, what we _haven’t_ rehearsed,” she said, driving a pointed look at Dimitri. “Ok? Ok! Break legs, people!”

Byleth shuffled with everyone else into the wings. She was grateful that Juliet was hardly in the final act - Dimitri definitely had the short straw as far as being forced into a lead went. She watched as Dedue delivered news of Juliet’s ‘death’ in as dry a tone as she’d ever heard him use, and as Dimitri frantically pulled hemlock from a riverbed, their alternative to casting someone as the apothecary. He then hurried offstage, and joined Byleth to watch Mercedes and Ashe as the Friars.

“Hey,” Dimitri murmured above her ear. “You ready?”

Byleth turned to look at him, finding his face closer than she’d expected. “Oh,” she said softly. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

Dimitri pored over her face, eyes scanning every inch of her expression. “You still wanna do the kiss?”

Byleth hadn’t expected him to ask again, and it made her heart race, just a little. “Um, yeah,” she said. 

Dimitri smiled, and nodded. “Right,” he whispered. “Ok then.”

“Ok then,” she nodded back, allowing a small smile, but Dimitri was already heading back on stage to fight Sylvain.

Sylvain’s performance was louder and more over-the-top than he’d ever done in rehearsals. Byleth and Mercedes watched, arm in arm, giggling to themselves. “How badly is Ingrid gonna beat him up for this?” Byleth asked.

“It’ll be a bloodbath,” Mercedes whispered. “Ok, you’re on!” she said, and shoved Byleth out towards the stage.

Under the dimmed lights, Byleth helped set the scene of the tomb before climbing onto the cot. The lights came up, and Dimitri began his soliloquy. Where Sylvain had been exponentially worse today than in rehearsals, Dimitri was better - much better. He delivered his lines with weight, speaking slowly and carefully and actually acting. Lying just a few feet from him, Byleth had to force herself not to open her eyes to watch. Finally, he said his fateful line - “seal with a righteous kiss my fate of death” - and then she felt him above her.

Byleth tried to prepare as best she could while also being dead. She held her breath, and parted her lips slightly, her stomach freezing over in anticipation. Dimitri leaned closer, Byleth’s pulse quickened, until, at the last second, Dimitri veered slightly to the right, touching his lips gently to Byleth’s cheek. They were warm, and soft, and Byleth was tempted to turn her head to meet them with her own, but resisted. 

The rest of the performance, including her own lines and subsequent death, went without issue. Sylvain’s performance as the Prince at the end was extremely subdued, leading Byleth to believe that Ingrid hadn’t waited until the show was over to rip into him. And then, finally, it was over.

\--

After the show, Byleth left with everyone else to the front of the auditorium, where audience members were waiting to greet their favorite cast members. Byleth found her dad, who waited outside with a small bouquet.

“Are these - for me?” Byleth asked, touching an orange petal with her fingertip. 

“Yep,” Jeralt said, the cellophane wrapping crinkling in his tight grip. “I think it’s tradition to get the leading lady flowers on her opening night.”

Byleth rolled her eyes, but beamed nonetheless. “Dad, I was barely in it. And it’s only one performance, so I’m not sure it counts as an opening.”

Jeralt shrugged. “First performance is opening night, as far as I’m concerned. And you _were_ in it, kid, and you were great.” He wrapped one arm around her in a side hug, and Byleth could see Dimitri approaching them.

“Professor Eisner,” Dimitri said, extending a hand. “We haven’t met yet. I’m Dimitri Blaiddyd, the Blue Lions prefect.”

Jeralt accepted the handshake, grinning a little at the formality from the 17 year old in front of him. “Dimitri! I’ve heard all about you from Byleth. Sounds like you’ve been a good friend.”

“Dad,” Byleth muttered.

“Yes, sir, I hope to be.” Dimitri nodded, not at all put off by the implication that Byleth was telling her dad about him.

“Hey, listen,” Jeralt said, leaning in conspiratorially, “don’t tell anyone I said this, but you were the best Romeo on that stage tonight.”

Dimitri flushed with pride. “Oh, thank you, sir.”

“You really carried the performance for this one,” Jeralt gestured to Byleth.

“Hey,” she said, whacking him lightly with the bouquet. “You just said I was great.” 

“Yeah, well, I say a lot of things.” Before Byleth had a chance to puzzle through whatever that meant, Jeralt was waving to someone across the courtyard. “Ah, I should go congratulate Alois, considering this is his whole thing and all. I’ll see you tomorrow, kid.” Jeralt said, squeezing Byleth’s shoulder before walking over to the cluster of English teachers, leaving Byleth and Dimitri alone.

“I’m sorry, about him.” Byleth said, turning to Dimitri.

Dimitri grinned. “What’s there to be sorry for? All he did was compliment me.”

“Oh. I guess that’s true.” Byleth frowned. “I guess he should just apologize to me, then.”

“Yeah, he should.”

They stood in the moonlight for a minute, and Byleth searched for something to say. _Just don’t bring up the kiss. Talk about anything other than the kiss_ . “You didn’t kiss me,” she blurted. _Shit_.

“Ah. Yeah. I was hoping you wouldn’t be offended,” Dimitri admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

Byleth pursed her lips. “Not offended,” she said, faux-casually. “Just wondering why.”

The pink flush from before returned to Dimitri’s face, spreading up his cheekbones. Even all red faced, he was still one of the most handsome people Byleth had ever seen, and she felt a lurch in her stomach like when she first saw his picture under the Blue Lions banner. “Well,” he said slowly, “I just - I didn’t want it to be like that.”

Byleth frowned. “What do you mean? Didn’t want what to be like that?”

Dimitri took in a deep breath, staring into space somewhere above Byleth’s head. “I didn’t want our first kiss to be like that. In front of all those people, and for a grade, and stuff.” He looked back down at her then, his blue eyes piercing into hers.

The lurch came back with a renewed force. “Our - _first_ kiss?”

“Oh. Uh, yeah.” Dimitri smiled bashfully. “Not to assume that we’d have a bunch, or anything, it just felt wrong for the first one.” He looked to the ground, then back to Byleth. She’d never seen him so shy before, and she couldn’t help being flattered by the idea that she’d reduced him to a blushing, eye contact-avoiding mess.

“Ok.” Byleth said quietly. “I’m not offended, then.”

They shared a smile, and Dimitri began visibly working up the courage to say something else. “So, this is kind of a non-sequitur, though also not, but - oh, God.” He took a deep breath, and Byleth couldn’t suppress a small laugh at his expense.

“Take your time.”

“Yeah, thanks,” he replied sardonically. “Ok. Byleth. Have you heard about the Winter Ball?”

Byleth blinked at him slowly. “The - what?”

“It’s like our version of prom,” Dimitri explained. “Well, it is prom, basically, just at the end of the fall semester, instead of the spring semester. It’s a big formal dance to celebrate the end of midterms.”

“Oh,” Byleth nodded. “Well, I’ve heard of it now.”

“Right, yes,” Dimitri said, only getting more flustered. “I was just wondering, because I didn’t know if dances were your thing.”

“I’ve never been to a school dance before.”

“Would you go to this one?”

“Yeah, I think I would.”

Dimitri nodded. “Ok, cool.”

Byleth hesitated a moment, before asking, “Is this your way of asking me to go with you?”

“Oh! No,” Dimitri shook his head, pinkness creeping up his cheeks again. Byleth couldn’t help the disappointment that welled in her stomach, until Dimitri continued, “but I will, later.”

“I - oh. You will?”

He nodded. “I will.”

“Ok,” Byleth said, as they smiled slowly at each other. And then, just because she was feeling a little bold, she said, “Then I’ll say yes.”

“You will?”

“I will.”

Dimitri nodded again, both of them now grinning like idiots. “Ok.”

"Ok.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now you might be tempted to say I Iifted this plot from Gilmore Girls, and you wouldn't be wrong, but in my defense, I also did this exact project in high school. My group did Act 1 as McDonalds vs Burger King, and it was exactly as stupid as it sounds (we did get that A though).
> 
> As always, your comments and kudos are so, SO appreciated. I think I've done more plotting and planning for this fic than any other story in my life, and believe me when I tell you that it's only gonna get better. The next few chapters especially.....yeah. I'm excited.
> 
> If you'd like to yell at/with me, you can find me on tumblr @silenticarus! Cheers y'all!


	5. No Bird, No Net (Felix)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so remember when I said my chapters keep getting longer? Well, all the previous ones have been between 5k and 6k, and this one is just over 8.5k! So, I hope y'all like long chapters, lol.

Felix yanked his mask up and tried to catch his breath, already getting the feeling that he was falling behind. He bent his foil in his hands, unsure whether it would help or not, the pliable length of the sword folding like a rainbow before snapping back to form. This match was not turning out the way he’d hoped it would - his opponent, some cocky freshman, seemed to have all the energy that Felix was missing. He scrubbed a hand down his face, clearing the sweat from his eyes, before pulling the mask back down and lining up at the en garde line.

“En garde. Ready? Fence!”

Felix lunged immediately. It was his go-to tactic - he liked to be the one to attack first. The kid - something Hinata, Felix thought his name was - barely let it slide, though, parrying it casually and immediately striking back. Felix parried it in turn, throwing himself off balance, and quickly readjusted his footing, scrambling backwards to avoid another attack.

To his cautious relief, Hinata didn’t follow immediately. Felix steadied himself again and then shuffled forward a couple steps. Hinata matched his steps backwards, nearing the edge of the mat. Their foils clashed several times, the soft _tings_ of the metal bouncing off each other driving an increase in Felix’s blood pressure. He pushed forward again, finally touching the tip of the foil to Hinata’s chest and taking the point. The lights flashed, and Felix allowed himself a single, small fist pump in celebration before lining back up.

Any point he could get was huge. The kid had been lucky enough to get a bye in his first round, and Felix had been unlucky enough to go up against several tough opponents in his quarter- and semi-finals, all of the bouts dragging out, with his semi-final ending due to time limit. Felix had gone into this final knowing he’d done way more fencing today than his opponent, and that he was going to have to be aggressive and take as many points as possible as soon as possible to prevent fatigue from losing the bout for him. Still, Hinata was quick on his feet and almost aggressive as Felix, and he was finding it hard to drive his foil in.

They began another point like the last: several parries, an attack by Felix, pushing Hinata to the edge of the mat, until Hinata got one good jab in, right above Felix’s belly button, and the lights flashed. Felix growled and returned to the en garde line. 

They kept going like this for several minutes, shuffling back and forth, foils swinging until Felix felt like his arm was going to fall off. Finally, with one last thrust, Felix stuck the tip of his foil into Hinata’s ribcage for the final point, leaving the scoreboard at _Hinata: 11; Fraldarius: 15_. 

“Yes!” Felix exclaimed softly, allowing himself another miniscule celebration, as it had been drilled into his head by his father: _even when you’ve won, no matter by how large a margin, you are before anything else, a gentleman_ , he’d said. Felix had been about eight the first time he’d heard that - a long way from a gentleman by any standards, but he’d still never violated the rule.

He slipped off his mask again and shook a few loose strands of hair away from his face, tucking the mask under his arm and extending a hand to Hinata. “Well done,” Felix nodded.

“Yeah, you too,” Hinata said, a bitter grin crossing his face. “Obviously, I guess, since you won.”

“Ah, right.” Felix said, trailing off to shake the hand of the referee.

“I look forward to the rematch,” Hinata said with a wink before sauntering off to join his teammates.

Felix didn’t really know what he meant by rematch, unless this guy had ambitions in the national tournament. He didn’t have time to think about it, though, as he was hounded by his coach and teammates.

“Felix!” Coach Catherine shouted as she bounded up to him with a slap on the back that made him cough. “Congratulations! That last point was a beauty!”

“Oh, thank you,” Felix said awkwardly. He wasn’t used to such exuberance from a fencing coach.

Ignatz looked up at him through round glasses. “Thanks for getting revenge for me,” he said, having lost to Hinata earlier in the day.

“Looks like we are both coming out as winners!” Petra said from behind Felix’s elbow. She’d won the women’s sabre with astonishing ease, though that was just the kind of fencer Petra was. Her focus was intense, and Felix wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her lose in all four years they’d been on the team together.

Heat crept up Felix’s neck and settled into place behind his ears as he took in their praise. His teammates had always congratulated him on wins before, and they were supportive, but Felix knew it was something in Catherine’s leadership that made them so cheerful now. 

“Both captains coming out winners!” Catherine said, looping her arms around Felix and Petra’s shoulders. “Not a bad first tournament for your new coach, huh? Oh, Shamir’s gonna be so psyched,” she said, clapping them each on the back again before hustling off. “Captains, let’s get everyone together so we’re ready to be back on the bus as soon as awards are over, yeah?” She continued out of the gym, pulling out her phone, presumably to call her wife.

Felix and Petra corralled everyone through the medal ceremonies and onto the bus. It was a couple hours back to school, and almost everyone fell asleep, including Catherine. Felix took the opportunity to pull _Jane Eyre_ out of his bag, settling into the stiff bus seat to catch up on his reading. With school work and fencing, he’d barely had time to read _Jane Eyre_ in the last couple months, and he probably would’ve just abandoned it, if not for Annette.

They’d met on the roof several times since the first night, mostly by accident and happenstance, but a couple times by careful planning. Their new friendship wasn’t exactly a secret, but they found themselves sitting apart at mealtimes and during study sessions. In class, they were as friendly as they’d ever been, completely cordial and only lightly teasing. But on the roof, under the moonlight, completely away from anyone else, things were different.

They talked a lot about books. _Jane Eyre_ , yes, but also practically everything else they’d both read. They talked a lot about whatever they’d been reading in English, leading Felix to write some of his best essays thanks to the extra discussion time they had, but also about the books they read outside of school - all the fun novels they’d read as kids, like _Harry Potter_ and _Percy Jackson_ and everything else his father said were a waste of time. 

Aside from books, they talked a lot about themselves, having not been particularly close before this year. Felix hadn’t known half the things Annette told him about herself, growing up poor, and working her ass off to get a scholarship to Garreg Mach. She’d apparently studied so hard for the entrance exam that she’d become the first person ever to ace it. They talked about the colleges they were applying to, finding a lot of common ground, since Felix wasn’t allowed to apply to anything that wasn’t an Ivy League, and Annette’s aspirations basically began and ended with the Ivies and some Seven Sisters. 

When they weren’t having their Serious Scholarly Seminars, as Annette had taken to calling their discussions, they talked about whatever else they could think of. Felix wasn’t used to just talking without having a point to make, but Annette could go on and on about anything, and while he was content to sit and listen, Felix was getting better at finding things to add and places to add them. They’d also gotten good at teasing the shit out of each other, another facet of friendship Felix had never excelled at. He was usually fine with watching Sylvain and Ingrid in their verbal sparring matches - when he did try and join in, he had trouble finding the line between funny and actually mean, so he mostly stopped trying. But with Annette, it came out easily, and somehow she knew he never meant it, and he could tell the same when she talked about his “sadboy haircut” or compared him to Jane Eyre’s moody, pain-in-the-ass love interest, Rochester.

Felix rolled his eyes thinking of the way Annette likened him to Rochester as he read the book under the poor lighting of the bus. Jane and Rochester were outside, in the garden, arguing, and Felix could see where this was going from a mile away - a fight, they yell, and then they’ll kiss, and then - _oh._

“I am no bird; and no net ensnares me; I am a free human being with an independent will, which I now exert to leave you.”

The line struck him like a bolt of lightning - what was it Annette had said all those weeks ago? _Let me know when you get to the bird line - you’ll know what I’m talking about._ This had to be it, unless there was some other incredible bird line in here, though Felix didn’t think it could get much better than this. He reread it, then went back a page to read all the lead up again. When he was satisfied, and he was sure, he took out his phone.

**Felix** : Hey

 **Felix** : Roof tn? I think I found your bird line.

**Annette** : Omg! Yes!

 **Annette** : When do you get back?

**Felix** : Judging by road signs...maybe 45 minutes?

**Annette** : Ok perf! I’m just in the common room, so poke your head in when you get here :3

 **Annette** : How was the tournament?

**Felix** : Oh, it was good

 **Felix** : Petra and I each won our sections

**Annette** : YOU WON???? 

**Annette** : Like, the whole tournament?!?!

**Felix** : Well only for my weapon

 **Felix** : So, foil

 **Felix** : But yeah I won the foil bracket

**Annette** : That’s amazing!! Congratulations!!

**Felix** : Thanks

 **Felix** : Are there other people in the common room w you rn?

**Annette** : Yeah! The whole gang pretty much, except Dimitri and Byleth, so that’s interesting

**Felix** : Do me a favor, don’t tell anyone else I won? Sylvain will make it a whole thing

**Annette** : ._.

**Felix** : You already tell them?

**Annette** : Might’ve

**Felix** : Damn

 **Felix** : Might have to reschedule the roof then, not sure I can handle seeing you after this betrayal

**Annette** : WOW 

**Annette:** Hey what’s it like being a ginormous, fencing baby?

 **Annette** : Omg, Fifi, are you not even gonna respond now?

 **Annette** : Ok, whatever, I’m sorry

**Felix** : I forgive you.

 **Felix** : (this time).

 **Felix** : Texting in the bus is making me carsick tho, so I’ll see you when I get back?

**Annette** : Yeah! 

**Annette** : I’ll try to convince Sylvain to just put up the small banner, save the big one for when you go to the Olympics

**Felix** : Hate you.

**Annette** : :3

Felix closed his eyes and leaned back against the seat, a faint smile on his lips.

\--

He was jolted out of a nap he hadn’t meant to take when the bus parked in front of the Garreg Mach field house. He roused himself, shoved _Jane Eyre_ into his backpack, and disembarked with the rest of his sleepy team. He and Petra helped Catherine facilitate as they and all their teammates carried their gear into the club room. Felix presided over everyone as they shelved their equipment and then locked up, tucking the key into his bag. 

“Hey, Felix,” Catherine called as he began to leave. “Can I talk to you a minute?”

Felix thought briefly of Annette and of Jane and of birds and of roofs, but nodded. “Yeah, what’s up?”

“I wanted to ask about your college plans.”

 _Fuuuuuuck_. The last thing Felix wanted to talk about when he was still groggy and had other places to be. “What about them?”

Catherine frowned, folding her arms. “Well, what are they? You’re applying, I assume?”

“Yeah,” Felix said, squeaking one of his tennis shoes on the tile floor. “All to Ivies, though; all places with fencing teams.”

Catherine sighed, seemingly somehow disappointed with his answer. “Felix, can I be honest with you?”

“Yes.”

“You’re really good.” He blinked in surprise - that wasn’t what he’d expected from someone who asked permission to be honest. “About as good as I ever saw from the people I fenced with, and that includes Olympians.”

That was really not what Felix had been expecting. A strange knot started to tie itself up somewhere between his lungs. “You think I’m good enough to go to the Olympics?”

Catherine shrugged nonchalantly, but her gaze didn’t waver from where it was locked into his. “You could very well be. And I think it would be even more likely with some really good coaching.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, have you looked into the fencing teams at any of the schools you’ve applied to? Like, really looked, for more than whether they have a team?”

The knot in Felix’s chest pulled a little tighter. “Not really.”

Catherine sighed again, like she was losing patience, but Felix didn’t know what she was waiting for. “Have you thought about applying to Notre Dame?”

Like, in Indiana? Felix almost laughed. “It’s not an Ivy, so, no.”

“Being at an Ivy is the most important thing to you?”

Felix shook his head. “To my dad.”

Understanding finally dawned on Catherine’s face. “Well, I don’t want to cause any trouble with your dad, but the coach at Notre Dame is the current coach for the US Olympic team.”

The knot pulled so tight Felix thought it might cut off all his oxygen. “Oh - he is?”

“He is. And you could still get on the Olympic team without going to Notre Dame, of course, but imagine how much easier it would be if you fenced for him in college. Imagine how much you could improve by the next games, if you had that kind of coaching at your disposal.”

It was all Felix could do to shrug. “Probably a lot,” he managed.

Catherine snorted. “A whole hell of a lot,” she said. “And he’ll be at Nationals, watching. I already emailed him about you, too - he saw you compete last year, remembered you too.”

“He did?” Felix choked out. The knot in his chest was now definitely blocking an airway. He wondered distantly if this was worth calling an ambulance for.

She grinned, pleased to have finally gotten a good reaction out of him. “I’m just saying, you might want to send in an application to Notre Dame, in case he really likes you. You haven’t applied early decision anywhere, have you?”

Felix shook his head. “No, my dad says it makes you look overeager.”

“Sounds about right,” Catherine said drily. “Well, at least think about it, ok?”

“Yeah,” Felix nodded. “I’ll look into it. Is there anything else you need from me tonight, or…?”

“No, that was it,” Catherine said, narrowing her eyes at him. “You’re free to go. Good job today.” Felix nodded again, and started to head for the exit, when she called after him again. “Felix? Just - make a decision that will make you happy, not just your dad, ok?”

It was a risky thing for a teacher to say, especially in a school like Garreg Mach, where parents were basically board members. If Felix’s dad ever caught wind of what Catherine had just said, she’d be fired before morning. Felix wasn’t the kind of person to tell his dad of such things, and he suspected Catherine knew that, but he admired her gall nonetheless. He nodded to her once more before leaving the building.

On the walk across campus, Felix tried to quiet the racket that Catherine had stirred up in his head. A chorus of little chattering voices were telling him all the things he didn’t want to think about, bringing up thoughts and desires that he’d been suppressing his whole life, and with renewed invigoration after Glenn’s death. He hadn’t acknowledged it yet, and he had no plans to, especially since he was about to meet Annette, and he should be focusing on that. 

He stopped in his tracks and shook his head, his still sweat-damp ponytail thwacking against his cheekbones. He banished the little chorus, resolving to think about Annette, and _Jane Eyre_ , and all the clever things he could say about it to impress her.

Because, really, as much as he didn’t want to acknowledge that, either, he was beginning to come to terms with the fact that whatever this thing was with Annette, it had gone beyond the realm of _just friends_. Felix knew he liked her, and he knew that if he’d brought it up with Sylvain (he never did), Sylvain would’ve asked if Felix meant that he _liked_ her, or if he _like_ liked her, and Felix knew he would have to say the latter.

He couldn’t be sure when or why or how it had happened, only that the realization that he had a huge crush (though he hated that word) on her had come while they were studying for biology, and she was helping him with a homework question. She’d leaned over his paper to read what he’d written, and when she’d spotted the error, her fingers touched lightly on his wrist, and he felt a bolt of electricity travel from her fingertips to his chest. She’d explained how to fix his answer, and when she turned to look at him, her face had been so close to his that he’d thought, _I could kiss her_ , almost immediately followed up by, _I_ want _to kiss her_.

“Fuck,” he said to the sidewalk. There was a chittering sound behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder to see a couple of younger girls giggling as they sped by him. “Sorry,” he muttered, figuring they probably wouldn’t hear him and not interested in rectifying it.

He gave the girls time to get well enough ahead of him before he continued on. He allowed himself five more seconds of thinking about Annette, and then balled up all his thoughts and feelings into a neat little bundle and stuffed it deep down inside, crammed between the lobes of his liver, probably.

The dorm was blissfully warm compared to the dry October air that had frozen Felix’s fingers. He let out a breath that became something between a sigh and groan and cracked open the Blue Lions common room door. 

He was hoping to be able to crack it only enough to see and get the attention of Annette, but instead, he almost immediately locked eyes with Sylvain.

“Oh, God damni-”

Felix’s muttering was cut off as Sylvain bounded to his feet, caught ahold of Felix’s wrist, and pulled him in. “Look who it is!” he bellowed, and the whole room gave a chorus of “woo”s, with varying levels of enthusiasm.

“Jesus, you’re obnoxious,” Felix growled as Sylvain wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“What? We just wanted to celebrate your win,” Sylvain said. 

“Congratulations, Felix,” Ingrid said from the chair next to the one Sylvain had risen from. 

Felix gestured to her with an open palm. “See? That’s how you congratulate someone like a normal person. Thank you, Ingrid.” 

Sylvain started bickering with Ingrid, and Felix tuned them out immediately. He twisted in Sylvain’s grip and scanned the room, his gaze finally alighting on turquoise eyes, and that familiar ice water feeling flooded his stomach again. He’d gotten used to it by now, and had learned to regard it as something pleasant, cool and refreshing, like jumping into a lake in the middle of the summer.

He gave her a small smile and a nod in greeting, trying not to call attention to himself.

She smiled back, her round cheeks pushing up to her eyes. “Thirty minutes?” she mouthed, holding up three fingers on one hand and making the other a fist to drive home the question.

He nodded again, and then turned to Sylvain. “Ok, bud, thank you. I gotta go shower now, but I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I - oh yeah, you stink,” Sylvain said, pausing in whatever argument he was having with Ingrid to frown down at Felix. Felix started to extricate himself, but Sylvain grabbed his wrist again at the last second, and Felix silently cursed his long fingers and albatross-like wingspan. “Wait, one more thing - I wanna know why you told Annette before you told us, hm?”

Felix blanched, and looked to Annette. Her eyes were wide and her brows had disappeared behind her bangs. She looked as curious as everyone else in the common room, waiting with anticipation whatever he was going to say. “Because she asked first,” Felix said lightly, shaking off Sylvain’s grip. “You wanna know how I am, you gotta ask.”

Sylvain gasped. “Have I been a bad boyfriend?”

“Yes,” Felix stated matter-of-factly, knowing that the better he played into this, the less anyone would look at Annette. 

“I’ll be better, baby, I swear,” Sylvain said, a cheshire cat grinning spreading over his face.

“No you won’t, and don’t call me baby” Felix said, finally backing out of the common room door. “Bye, Ingrid,” he waved. He looked to Annette one last time across the room, gave her a small wink, and left into the hallway, shutting the door behind him. 

He ran upstairs, regretting that he’d let Sylvain take up so much of the limited time he had before going to the roof. He showered quickly, scrubbing his scalp to get rid of the sweat, and then dressed in loose teal joggers and a gray sweatshirt, grabbing his lightest puffy coat in case he got cold. He grabbed his book and his keys, tied up his hair, and checked his watch - perfectly on time. He took the stairs to the roof door two at a time, briefly paused at the top to catch his breath and smooth his hair, and then opened the door.

Annette was already huddled knees-to-chest in her adirondack - they’d done this enough now that one chair was hers, one was his, and the third was for snacks and books - with a blanket around her shoulders, the hood of her sweatshirt pulled all the way up and cinched around her chin, and her thermos clutched in her hands. Her face lit up when she saw him. “Hey,” she called, voice slightly muffled by her layers.

“How cold are you?” he asked by way of a greeting. 

“I’m _freezing_ ,” she admitted. “How are you not colder?”

He shrugged. “I guess I just run warm. Let me know if you wanna borrow some body heat.” _Holy fuck that did not come out right_. 

Annette’s eyes went wide and Felix thought he could see a flush creep over her cheeks. “Oh - ok.”

Felix just nodded, not sure how to come back from accidentally saying something so suggestive, and decided to just power forward. “So, I think I found your bird line,” he said, desperate to get on topic and away from...whatever.

Annette, too, looked relieved to have _Jane Eyre_ to talk about. “Oh, yes! ‘I am no bird, and no net ensnares me’?”

“‘I am a free human being with an independent will, which I now exert to leave you,’” Felix finished, having already memorized it from reading it over so many times on the bus.

Annette smiled. “Nobody ever really talks about the second part.”

“Really? It’s the best part.” Felix argued, grateful to have fallen so quickly into verbal step with her.

Annette wrinkled her eyebrows. “You think so? You like the direct statement more than the metaphor?”

Felix tilted his head, thinking it over for a moment. “Yeah, actually. She’s saying what she means, not giving him the chance to misinterpret her. It’s smart, it’s direct, it’s...it’s-”

“Simple?”

“I was going to say brave.”

Annette made a little sound of surprise, blinking at him. “You think saying what you mean is brave?”

Felix flushed under her scrutiny. He was getting dangerously close to territory he did not want to touch. “Yeah, I mean, sometimes, I guess. It can be hard, and scary, I think, to say exactly what you want to say.”

“Do you have trouble saying what you want to say?” Annette asked quietly.

“Sometimes. To some people.”

“Like...like who?” she asked, sitting up in her chair, moving her hood back slightly on her face to see him better.

Felix sighed. If he was going to change the subject, he was going to have to do it now. He had never said this stuff out loud - had never even really let himself put it into words in his head, and now he was one kind look from spilling it all to someone he’d barely spoken to until two months ago. He looked up at her, and saw the waiting, but patient, look on her face, as if he could say anything in the world, and she would listen until he was done and accept it all.

And he figured, if were to spill his guts to anyone, it might as well be her, who he’d barely spoken to until two months ago, and who he somehow already trusted more than anyone else he knew.

“My dad,” he said.

Several emotions passed so quickly over her face that he couldn’t begin to parse them all, but she landed on something like confusion and embarrassment. “Oh, ok,” she said, nodding heavily.

“Wait, what? Is that weird?”

“No, no! Just not what I was expecting.” She shook her head, and drew her hoodie back up against the cold. “I thought you got along well with your family.”

“I do! I mean, kinda. I just - do you ever feel like everyone is expecting you to do one specific thing, and if you don’t do it, the floor will fall out from under you?”

She laughed through her nose. “Felix, I’ve told you how I grew up. Getting into this school, going to college, and then med school - none of that is what anyone would have expected from me. I only got here because I wanted it, and I’ve had to support myself the whole way. I think I know exactly what you mean.”

“Right,” Felix nodded, and then, “Ok, before I go on, just know that this going to sound really stupid next to what you’ve been through, and I know that, but -”

“Felix, it’s fine,” Annette said, interrupting him with a touch of her slim fingers to his knee. “I know. You can say whatever it is.”

He heaved a sigh. “Ok. So, my dad is the kind of guy who says he loves family, but he really only means that in the way that he wants to protect the name, and the legacy our ancestors built. But I’m not actually sure he cares at all about me, or my brother.” He glanced at her - her eyes were focused on him, and she nodded at him, encouraging him to keep talking. “So, he’s in charge of this energy business, and the CEO position has been passed down from father to son since the 1800s. It’s always been a Fraldarius in charge. And it was supposed to go to my brother, but when he left school, the responsibility and the pressure from my dad was so much, that - well, you know.” Annette nodded - everyone knew. “So now, it’s on me. You know what I did this summer, while you were pursuing research that interested you? I was shadowing my dad at work, sitting in on meetings and reading reports that I don’t even kinda understand, and all of it basically saying that we’re destroying the planet, but at least we’re making a ton of money. It sucks, and I’m just being forced into it and -” He stumbled on the edge of the thought, and then tumbled forward. “And, I don’t want it. I don’t want the life my father has designed for me.”

He looked to her then, terrified that she might throw off her blanket and run to call his father, but, of course, she didn’t. Perhaps more strange, she actually smiled at him, a soft, sweet smile that Felix wanted to capture in a photo and frame to keep forever, just to remind him of the way his muscles relaxed and the knot in his chest loosened under that smile. 

And then she frowned, and the knot pulled taut once more.

“So, your father placed a burden on your brother that - directly or indirectly - led to his death, and then changed nothing about that burden when he transferred it to you?” Felix nodded grimly. Annette sat up suddenly and pushed her hands through her blanket, using them both to take up one of Felix’s. “Felix, are you ok?”

The sudden, deep concern on her face suddenly made more sense. “Oh, yeah,” he nodded fervently. “I mean, Glenn - he was in a bad place even without the crap from my dad. I’m not - I’m not in danger, Annette.” They were both dancing around it, but he knew they understood each other - _no, I’m not going to kill myself, but I appreciate your concern_. 

She nodded, satisfied, but didn’t let go of his hand. “So, if you don’t want to follow your dad into fossil fuels, what do you want?”

“That’s the thing, I have no idea.” He looked up at her, noticing for the first time how close their faces were, both leaning over their knees, his hand between hers. “It would be one thing to go against him if I had a plan, but I don’t.”

“Well, maybe you can figure that out in college. That’s what college is supposed to be for, right? You could go somewhere small if you wanted. Or does your dad plan on picking a college for you?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty much down to the best Ivy that lets me in.”

“Well, maybe we’ll end up at the same place, and then I can help you figure it out,” Annette offered, now tracing small patterns on the inside of Felix’s wrist with her finger, sending small shivers down his spine. “Maybe we’ll even end up in the same classes, and we can study together, just like we do now. Eternal study buddies.” 

“Even if we do end up at the same school, I don’t think we’d be in the same classes. I couldn’t handle pre-med. You’re way smarter than me.”

She laughed. “Are you finally ready to admit that?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said, leaning back in his chair with a sigh, realizing too late that doing so broke the connection of their hands. At the separation, Annette curled back in her own chair, sipping from her coffee. “You know,” Felix said, after a long, quiet moment, “I’ve never told anyone any of that.”

Annette looked at him evenly over her knees. “I won’t tell.” She sipped her coffee again, and then said, “but, you know, Sylvain would be really hurt if he knew that.” She hid her subsequent cheeky grin behind her thermos.

Felix rolled his eyes. “I already give Sylvain way more than he deserves.”

Annette widened her eyes behind her coffee. “What does that mean?”

Felix squinted at her implication, but continued on, “Just that I already buy into his shit too much. Like, you know that Halloween party next week?”

“Dorothea’s party?”

“Yeah, that one. He convinced me to wear coordinating costumes.”

“Oh my God. What are you going as?”

Felix sighed deeply, as if this was harder to say than the stuff about his father. “Pirates,” he mumbled, covering his face with his hands.

“That doesn’t seem so bad.”

“He wanted me to go as his parrot, but I refused. This was the compromise”

He couldn’t see her, but he could hear the grin in Annette’s voice. “I would pay good money to see you in a parrot costume.”

He peeked at her from between his fingers and was rewarded with the sight of her grin. “It would cost a lot of money to get me into the costume, and even more to be seen in it.”

She nodded, as if she’d expected that. “It would be worth it.”

They talked for a while more, eventually getting back around to _Jane Eyre_ , the knot in Felix’s chest finally loosening away to nothing, before saying goodnight around midnight, when Annette got too cold to stand it any more, and the fatigue from a day of competition had set in to Felix’s bones. They went their separate ways, and as Felix took the stairs back towards his room, he found himself briefly contemplating the parrot costume.

\-- 

The next week passed in a predictable though not unpleasant blur of classes, study sessions, fencing practices (from which Felix rushed off quickly to avoid having another conversation about his future), and one late night roof hangout with Annette, which was mostly quiet as she worked on her calculus and he on his econ.

Finally Saturday rolled around, and Felix spent the first part of the evening with Sylvain, Dimitri, and Ingrid in Sylvain’s room, pregaming with more shots than was probably necessary. It was a familiar scene, the four of them making questionable choices together and laughing all the way through. It was rare these days that Sylvain was able to successfully convince them all to let go a bit. Between the general stony stoicism of Dimitri, Ingrid, and Felix, it was a minor miracle that Sylvain ever got them to loosen up, but it was one of his greatest strengths as a friend. As much as Felix liked to pretend to be annoyed by Sylvain, he was deeply grateful to have someone to prevent him from ever turning too far inwards.

They each downed several shots of vodka from little plastic cups before Sylvain corralled them for a group selfie. Sylvain and Felix were in matching tight brown pants with billowing white shirts, the swords from their production of _Romeo and Juliet_ attached to their belt loops (Sylvain had asked Felix to bring his fencing weapons, and Felix had declined, firmly). Felix had an eyepatch flipped up above his left eye, and Sylvain had found a fake bird when they were stealing their swords to attach haphazardly to his shoulder, completing their looks. Dimitri and Ingrid had both gone for superheroes, Dimitri wearing a tight, cheap Captain America one-piece he’d found online, and Ingrid wearing a much nicer, _much_ better fitting Wonder Woman costume. With her bare legs and her hair, which she almost always had in a neat, tight braid, flowing loose around her shoulders, she looked more confident than Felix had seen her in a long time. It made him a little happy, weirdly, to see the girl who was nearly his sister almost back like her old self.

Sylvain was also clearly happy about the way Ingrid looked, but not in the same way. The more they drank, the more Sylvain stole quick little glances at Ingrid - mostly at her legs. As they finally made their way to the girls’ side of the dormitory, Felix stuck an elbow in Sylvain’s side.

“You’re ogling her,” he said, quietly enough so that Ingrid couldn’t hear. “Stop.”

Sylvain made an exaggerated expression of disbelief. “What? Me? At her? No, dude, that’s gross. She’s like my sister, you know that.”

Felix rolled his eyes. “If she’s like your sister, then the way you’re looking at her is even worse, because you’re definitely looking at her. Go find a sophomore. Ingrid isn’t gonna play your game.”

Sylvain pouted as they approached Dorothea’s door. “You’re mean.”

Felix opened his mouth to retort as they entered the party, but he stopped short when he spotted Annette on the other side of the room. She had told him she was coming as a witch, but he was just now, for the first time, seeing the costume: a short, flouncy, black dress with long sleeves, chunky black boots, and a tall, pointed black hat. Her hair was teased and curled beneath the hat to frame her face with little ginger clouds, and her cheeks were pink, though whether that was from makeup or the heat in the room, Felix couldn’t say. All in all, she looked fairly witchy, a little bit goth, and very, very pretty.

Sylvain followed his sight line. “Oh, now who’s ogling?”

“Shut up,” Felix said, jabbing him with another elbow. He felt a flush creep up his chest and into his cheeks, eased on its path by the alcohol in his system. 

Sylvain tilted his head, examining Felix, his eyes only mostly focused. “Felix, do you have a crush?”

Felix glared at him, but said nothing.

“Holy, shit, you do!” Sylvain gaped at him. “I don’t know when the last time you had a crush was! Wait, have you ever had a crush?”

“Sylvain, shut up.”

“Do you know what to do? Like do you know how kissing works? Oh my God, do we need to have a lesson?”

“Sylvain.”

“Or have you already kissed her? How much is going on here that you’ve been keeping secret?”

Felix groaned. “Oh my God, Sylvain, please, shut the fuck up. No I haven’t kissed her yet, yes I know how. Happy?”

Sylvain shrugged, still grinning widely. “I’m happy if you’re happy, Felix. Are you planning on kissing her, though? Or is this the kind of crush that you’re gonna sit on til it goes away?”

“I’m gonna kiss her tonight.”

The words surprised both of them as they fell out of Felix’s mouth - Sylvain, because he hadn’t actually expected a response to his goading, and Felix, because he hadn’t been planning to kiss her at all. But even as he said the words, he felt bolstered by them. He wanted to kiss her, and he’d thought a couple times that she might want to kiss him too, and he already had enough liquid courage flowing through him to know that he _could_ do it, so why not tonight?

“Are you really?”

“Yep,” he said, looking over at her again, and the ice water feeling sloshed in his stomach. He went to take a step towards her, and the ice water lurched, cold and shocking again, like it was in the beginning. “But not yet. Drinks?”

He looked back to Sylvain, who nodded emphatically, shocked into silence, at least for now. They made their way to the bucket of jungle juice set up on Dorothea’s desk. Edelgard stood next to it, arms folded in front of her, her natural scowl on full display. She was dressed as a vampire, in an expensive-looking all black outfit, a little cape, and blood red lipstick. Her white blonde hair fell like curtains around her face as she surveyed Felix and Sylvain.

“Well, don’t you two look dashing,” she remarked as they approached the desk.

“Yarr,” Sylvain said in reply, squinting one eye closed and hooking a finger at her, which she swatted away.

“You’re looking very scary, Edelgard,” Felix said as he ladled punch into two red Solo cups for himself and Sylvain.

She shrugged a shoulder at him coyly. “Why, thank you. See, Sylvain,” she said, turning to him, “that’s how you talk to people who compliment you.”

“Where’s your shadow?” Sylvain asked, ignoring her.

“He’s not my shadow, obviously, since he’s not here,” Edelgard said, looking around. “I don’t actually know where he is, though.”

They left Edelgard to find Hubert and ventured into the throng of dancers with their drinks. Felix didn’t actually dance much, preferring to sway slightly to the beat, but he was tipsy enough now that he put a little bit of hip into it. Sylvain had him beat by a landslide though as the life of the party, and Felix was happy for him to take all the attention.

He looked back to where Annette and Mercedes had been when he first came in, but they’d moved. Now Bernadetta stood there, leaning against the wall, eyes glued to the Switch she’d brought with her. Felix was impressed that Dorothea had gotten her here at all, let alone in a costume, if the Pikachu onesie she wore could be counted as such.

Some time later, when Felix was considerably sweatier and drunker than he’d been before, he pushed his way towards the window for a break. 

“Hey, Bernie,” he said as he leaned next to her.

“We don’t have to talk,” she said, never looking up from her game.

“Ok,” Felix said, happy to take in the fresh air by the window. He leaned his head against the window frame, the giddy dizziness in his head swirling in time with the thumping bass. He opened his eyes in time to see, as they pushed through the dancers, Annette and Mercedes, who was dressed like an angel, complete with a pipe cleaner halo. 

He felt his face break into a grin when he saw her coming towards him, and he went red immediately, but he didn’t mind either expression. He remembered what he said to Sylvain, and his heart skipped a beat, but he didn’t mind that either.

“You look great!” Annette said once she was close enough. “I love the hair.”

Sylvain had convinced Felix to wear it more “scoundrel-y,” as he’d put it, for the sake of the costume. It was basically his regular ponytail, but with a small piece pulled out on each side at the front - Sylvain had called them face-framers. “Oh, thank you,” Felix said. “You look amazing,” he said, looking her up and down. “I love this,” he said, flicking the brim of her hat.

She giggled. “I figured if I was going to pick a basic costume idea, I had to at least look really good.”

“You do,” Felix said without pause. “Look really good, I mean.” 

She laughed again, her nose scrunching up. “You already said that.”

Felix shrugged, trying to force a sense of confidence, despite the acute awareness that he was embarrassing himself. At least Mercedes was talking to Bernie, so he didn’t have to worry about her hearing the stupid stuff he was saying.

A breeze came through the window, and Felix relished the coolness of it against his sweaty skin. “Hey,” he said, an idea formulating, “it’s kinda hot and crowded in here, do you wanna maybe get out for a bit?”

Annette blinked at him. “I - uh, yeah. Where?”

Felix pointed upward. “Where else?”

She nodded, like that had clarified something for her. “Yeah, let’s go.” She leaned over to whisper something in Mercedes’ ear, who nodded, and then fixed Felix with a stare that felt almost like a warning. 

Felix led Annette through the small crowd, paying attention to where she was gripping the back of his shirt to be aware if she let go. He opened the door and almost collided with Dimitri on the other side, who gave him an appraising look.

“Where are you two headed?” he asked.

Felix frowned. “I could ask you the same question.”

Dimitri’s face crinkled in bafflement. “I’m going into the party,” he said, as if it should be obvious. “Your turn.”

“We’re getting air.”

“He needs it,” Annette offered, wrapping one hand around Felix’s bicep.

Dimitri’s eyes glanced from her hand, to Felix’s face, to Annette’s face, and back to Felix. “Well,” he said slowly, “don’t do anything too crazy.”

“Of course, Mr. Prefect, sir.” Felix saluted, and they continued down the hallway to the stairwell.

Annette giggled. “You shouldn’t talk to him like that. He _is_ the prefect. He could report you for drinking.”

Felix shook his head. “He was drinking with me less than an hour ago. Besides,” he said, once they were out on the roof, “I’m not even that drunk.”

Annette raised one eyebrow, then reached out with a single finger and pushed him lightly in the shoulder. He stumbled back a couple steps, and she laughed, loudly, into the air. Felix wanted to chase the sound.

“Ok, maybe I’m a little drunk,” he admitted. He took another step away from her and tilted his head back, letting the cool, almost cold air surround him. It felt like heaven on his flushed, vodka-warmed skin. His head was tilted so far back that it made him dizzy, and the only solution he could see was to lay down.

“What are you doing?”

“Laying,” he explained, blinking lazily up to the sky, before turning to look at her. Being horizontal felt nice. “Come stargaze with me.”

The corners of her mouth twitched just a little before she acquiesced. Felix averted his gaze from her short skirt, feeling vaguely proud that he was at least unlike Sylvain in that regard. It wasn’t until she was on her back that he realized how close she was, with their puffy sleeves brushing against each other. He glanced down to their hands, separated by inches.

“Hey, Felix?” she said, interrupting his thoughts as he tried to figure out how to casually grab her hand. 

“Hm?” He looked at her. She’d taken her hat off, and her hair spread out all around her.

“It’s cloudy.”

“What? Oh,” he turned his gaze to the sky. Sure enough, any stars were obscured by a thick layer of dark clouds. “I didn’t realize.”

“You laid down and invited me to stargaze without actually looking at the stars?” She was staring at him in amazement, though it wasn’t exactly flattering - more like she was amazed that anyone could be so stupid.

“Yeah, that’s about right.”

She sat up and let out a small breath. “Sometimes, I think you’re kinda clueless.”

“Huh?” he furrowed his eyebrows, still laying on the rooftop. 

She stayed silent for a while, fluffing her hair back up where she’d flattened it, and putting her tall pointy hat back on. She looked back at him over her shoulder, and asked, “Feeling any better?”

He hadn’t forgotten _that_ quickly. He sat up too, blinking to let his eyes adjust to being vertical again, and eyed her up. “You think I’m clueless?”

“I didn’t mean that,” she said, her hair swishing gently as she shook her head. “Really.”

They were both sitting up, so close to one another, and when Annette looked up at him, it was through her lashes and in a way that set Felix’s heart racing. _This is it,_ he realized, and cursed the wide brim of her witch’s hat that was now the only thing obstructing him.

He found a solution quickly, though, and lifted her hat from her head, placing it onto his own.

She laughed. “What are you doing?”

“Getting this out of the way.”

“Out of the way of what?”

“Of this.” He placed one finger under her chin to tilt her face towards his, and then, with a mixed sense of urgency and restraint, closed the distance. 

While he wasn’t as experienced as Sylvain, Felix had had his fair share of first kisses, but this one won within the first millisecond. There were no fireworks - more of a sparkling sensation, like champagne bubbles, light and pleasant, as their lips connected. Annette’s mouth was soft and warm against Felix’s, and as her hands came up to his chest, he felt a shiver ripple over his body.

And then, her hands were pushing him away.

“What are you doing?” She gasped, pushing herself up to her feet and taking a step back.

“Kissing you?” Felix answered, dumbfounded.

Annette scowled. “Yeah, obviously. Why?”

Felix didn’t have an answer - or, he did, but he couldn’t get his mouth to speak it. _Because you’re pretty. Because I’m drunk and brave and stupid right now. Because you were so so close to me. Because you called me clueless and that’s what I thought you were talking about. Because you’re really, really, pretty, and I like you so much it makes me bold and maybe a little dumb_. Answer after answer raced through his mind, but not a single one found his vocal chords.

He just stared up at her, mouth opening and shutting repeatedly, like a goldfish.

Her mouth screwed up like she was keeping some words of her own locked inside, and snatched her hat from his head. As she leaned in, he thought he saw tears forming in his eyes, and that, finally, launched him from inaction.

“Annette, wait,” he called, staggering to his feet. In getting up, the weight of his drunkenness clubbed him on the head, and he realized, at last, exactly how badly off he was. 

“No,” she spat, and charged for the door.

“Annette, please, where are you going?”

She turned at the door, eyes boring into him with the darkest glare he’d ever seen on her face. “I am exerting my free will and leaving you!”

By the time he’d processed what she’d said and what it meant, the door had clanged shut behind her. He swore, and rushed towards it, stumbling down the staircase after her, exerting a conscious effort to keep his feet underneath him. “Annette!”

She wasn’t hard to find. On the landing of Dorothea’s floor, Mercedes stood against a wall, holding a sobbing Annette to her chest. She looked up as Felix approached, wide-eyed and apologetic, but she shut him down with a single look.

“Not now,” she chided, her voice cold even as she rubbed circles on Annette’s back.

Felix opened his mouth to try again when a scream echoed up the stairs from the floor below. Felix and Mercedes shared a single, shocked look, before Felix turned and bolted down the stairs, some hero’s instinct grasping hold of him. 

He followed the scream to the communal bathroom on the second floor, vaguely aware of several other sets of footstep behind him. He spent half a second being concerned about barging into a girls’ bathroom before his instincts took the reins again and he charged in. A sophomore girl was standing in front of the sinks, the scream still streaming from her lungs, and before Felix could ask what was wrong, he saw the message scrawled across the mirror.

He turned back to see who had followed him in. Several people, some from this floor, some from the party, were crowded in the doorway, Mercedes amongst them. Felix could see Annette just behind her, but neither of them had seen the mirror yet. He made eye contact with Mercedes, concern written plainly on her face, and shook his head vigorously.

Mercedes nodded once, understanding, and stepped out of the doorway, pulling Annette with her. Felix could just hear her as they went, saying, “I don’t think it’s anything we want to see.” 

With Annette safely away, Felix turned back to the mirror. There, written in - no, not blood, but blood red lipstick - in tall, shaky letters:

_HANNEMAN WAS NOT INNOCENT_

_YOU ARE ALL HIS VICTIMS_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost named this chapter "No Bird, No Net, No Woman, Much Cry," but I thought it might be a bit much.
> 
> As always y'all, your kudos and comments are so, SO greatly appreciated - seriously, comments are writer fuel. Specifically, I would love to know if anyone has any headcanons for what other character wore for Halloween that I didn't get to mention? Personally I would love to see Ashe and Dedue in one of those two person cow costumes :3
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Please feel free to come yell at or with me on tumblr @silenticarus. Cheers y'all!


	6. The Initial Clue (Ingrid)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yipes, I thought this chapter was gonna be much shorter than the others, but it's once again over 8k. So sorry, but happy reading!

On most Sunday mornings, Ingrid didn’t actually mind Sunday mass. She had always been a morning person, and while she wasn’t especially religious, the soft voice of Father Tomas usually imparted some useful wisdom, even if she forgot it by the next mass. She often admired the way the morning light filtered through the ancient stained-glass windows, throwing disco ball-like arrays of color across the red carpet of the church. Mass was, if nothing else, a place to sit in quiet calm, to reflect, and find a bit of peace, so since attendance was required by the school, Ingrid went every week with little to no complaint.

This was not her attitude, however, on the Sunday morning after Dorothea’s Halloween party - a party that was being called legendary even before the creepy message in the bathroom. Ingrid, like most of the seniors, had been up into the wee hours of the night, well beyond intoxicated, and was now running on a few hours of sleep, a swirling stomach, and a thumping headache.

As they all filed into the church, Ingrid carefully surveyed those she could see. Ingrid had foregone sunglasses, preferring to suffer through the pain of the morning light rather than arouse any suspicion, but not everyone had followed suit. Dorothea and Ferdinand seemed to be supporting each other, similar pairs of enormous sunglasses obscuring their features, while behind them, Hilda swayed in silence to the beat of whatever song played in her head behind ostentatious pink frames. 

Felix and Sylvain were both sporting their own pairs of dark glasses - not a surprise, considering that they both seemed to be disasters this morning. When they’d met outside the dorm to walk over together, she’d try to say hello, but Sylvain had pressed a finger to her lips as soon as she’d opened her mouth.

“Shh, no,” Sylvain had whispered. “No talk.”

Their bad mood was only worsened by the fact that Dimitri seemed to have ditched them for Byleth and Dedue, which he’d been doing with increasing frequency. They’d tried to get Dimitri to just bring Byleth to join their group, but he insisted that she was shy, that they’d have to do it gradually. Ingrid thought it was weird - it wasn’t as if Byleth was some wild animal that had to be slowly introduced to a new habitat, but Dimitri was clearly so nervous about ruining things that Ingrid forced herself to be sympathetic. 

Now, with only the silent Sylvain and Felix, she was getting bored and crabby. “So, are you guys gonna take the shades off for mass? Or is the holy light too bright?”

They glared at her. “If these glasses leave my face, I think I’d actually die,” Sylvain mumbled, dramatic as ever.

“I think I might prefer death at this moment,” Felix grumbled, screwing his face up as they entered the church, the strange smell of mothballs and old lady perfume cloying at the best of times.

Ingrid frowned as they made their way into a pew. “What’s your deal? Besides the hangover, I mean.”

When Felix didn’t answer, Sylvain spoke up, still whispering. “Girl trouble,” he said.

Ingrid’s eyebrows shot up. “What? Since when does Felix talk to girls?”

Felix shot her a look that could’ve killed anyone who wasn’t as unafraid of him as Ingrid was.

“Since this year, apparently,” Sylvain supplied again. He nudged Felix lightly with an elbow, his characteristic grin creeping onto his face, albeit duller than usual.

“Who is it?” Ingrid asked Sylvain, no longer bothering with the pretense of talking to Felix.

But, of course, this was when Felix piped up. “Do _not_ -,” he hissed, breaking off abruptly, clamping his lips shut and sitting straight up, one hand gripping the pew in front of them so hard his knuckles went white.

Ingrid and Sylvain both instantly recognized the expression. “Do not puke in church!” they whispered simultaneously.

Felix held up one finger, and they both waited anxiously until he relaxed back into his seat. “Ok, it passed. Don’t wake me up until we have to kneel, unless I start to snore.” And with that, Felix reclined in his seat, fixing his head forwards, and drifted off.

Ingrid and Sylvain both settled in as Tomas began his sermon. They crossed themselves dutifully, and muttered, “and with your spirit,” with the rest of the students.

Ingrid half-listened to the rest of mass, only really paying attention during the readings, the only part she found interesting. It was almost like poetry sometimes, and though she didn’t particularly believe the religious implications, she appreciated the proverbs for what they were - snippets of guidance, passages in which she could find peace or advice. Today’s reading was no different:

“...we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.”

Ingrid rolled it around in her head as she operated on autopilot throughout the rest of the service. She had certainly been served her fair share of suffering, even as young as she was. She thought, predictably, of Glenn, his face swimming up in front of her mind’s eye, both smiling and sad, until she forced it away. Had losing Glenn produced endurance? Maybe, she reasoned, since she’d pushed on and gone on surviving in his absence, though it didn’t feel quite right to think of it all in that way. She supposed it gave her character, but again, thinking of Glenn’s death as something that had helped her - had spurred growth, or achievement in any way, felt awful.

And then, the last piece of the chain - hope. Had Glenn left hope within her? She certainly didn’t hold the same constant despair, not anymore, but she wasn’t sure she’d exactly found hope, either. It was almost like she was stuck in limbo, somewhere between the suffering and hope, and she didn’t know how to move towards the finish line.

As she crossed herself with the rest of the congregation, she wondered, vaguely, if she ever would.

After mass, the students moved in one large cluster towards the dining hall. “Breakfast?” Sylvain asked the group. “I need coffee and potatoes before I die.”

Ingrid nodded emphatically, regretting it immediately as it jostled her headache. “I need food so my Tylenol has something to stick to.”

Felix shook his head. “I’m not eating again until next Tuesday. I’m going back to bed,” he said, before turning on his heel and stalking back to the dorm without another word.

“Eh, he’s an asshole today anyway,” Sylvain said, shooing Felix away with a halfhearted gesture. “Hashbrowns?”

“Please,” Ingrid sighed, and they headed into the dining hall together. “So,” she started, as they lined up with plates in front of the serving trays piled high with breakfast food. “Now that Felix is gone, are you gonna fill me in on all his girl gossip?”

Sylvain beamed at her. “Thank God, I was so worried you weren’t gonna ask, and I didn’t want to be the one who brought it up, since technically I’m sworn to secrecy.”

Ingrid shrugged, matching his devilish grin. “It was his fault for asking you to begin with. You keep secrets about as well as TMZ.”

“I feel like I should be insulted,” Sylvain mused as he pulled a small stack of pancakes onto his plate, “but I’m kinda not.”

Sylvain took both of their plates and found seats while Ingrid filled a mug for each of them with coffee before joining him. She slid into her seat and fixed her companion with a hard stare. “Ok. Spill.”

Sylvain popped a bite of hashbrowns and sausage into his and sighed rapturously, before fixing Ingrid with a stare of his own. “I will,” he said around his mouthful of food, “but not here.”

Ingrid crinkled her nose, both in confusion at his statement and disgust at his bad manners. “Why not?”

“Because, the person you want to know about is here, and I don’t want them to hear and get upset.”

“Oh,” Ingrid said, mildly surprised. “That’s...courteous.”

“What can I say, I was raised well,” he said, slurping his coffee loudly.

They left breakfast feeling a million times better, stretching in the autumn air, the weather now beginning the transition from cool to cold. “So, what now?” Sylvain asked languidly. “Wanna hit the library, get some homework done? I feel like if I go back to my dorm, I’ll fall asleep for the whole day.”

“Maybe later?” Ingrid offered. “I was gonna go ride a bit.”

Sylvain’s features pulled together in puzzlement. “Really?”

“I always ride on Sunday mornings.”

“Yeah, I know, but you aren’t usually hungover on Sunday mornings. Will you even be able to stay on your horse?”

Ingrid glared at him. “What are you suggesting?”

Sylvain tilted his head chidingly, but with a small smile. “Nothing about your abilities, so relax. I’m _suggesting_ that you, and me, and everyone else in our grade, drank about all the alcohol in Western Massachusetts last night, and none of us are at our physical best.”

Ingrid shrugged. “I’m feeling much better now that I’ve had some food and caffeine.” She hesitated a moment, and then continued, “You can come with me if you want; ride together?” On seeing the horrified look on his face, she amended, “Or you can just come to babysit me, if you’re really that concerned.”

“I really am,” he said, only half-mockingly. “Besides, we’ll probably be the only ones at the stables, so I can fill you in all the hot gossip,” he added, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

She felt the corners of her mouth twitch upward. “Ok, I’m gonna change and grab my stuff, and we can hit the library after?”

Sylvain agreed, and they both darted off to their rooms - or, Ingrid darted, and Sylvain walked at a leisurely pace, not willing to push the healing limits of his breakfast. Ingrid hadn’t lied when she said she was feeling better - at least, not entirely. She really had improved since setting foot in the dining hall, and while the nausea was still somewhat present, she no longer felt on the verge of vomiting, and her headache had mostly subsided with coffee. Still, when she got to her room, the first thing she did was swallow some painkillers before dressing in her riding gear, shoving a change of clothes for the library into her bag, and heading back down to meet Sylvain.

They started their walk across campus to the equestrian center by recapping their night, only to find that they’d both spent the majority of their time dancing, though they had barely danced together. Ingrid had spent most of her time either dancing, drinking, or talking with Dorothea, one of her few friends outside her normal, testosterone-heavy group. 

“That’s so weird,” Ingrid mused as they walked. “I feel like I barely saw you.”

“Yeah? I feel like I saw you the whole night.”

Ingrid turned to him, eyebrows raised. “Really?”

Sylvain swallowed - nervously, maybe - and then laughed. “Well, you’re easy to spot in a crowd.”

Ingrid doubted this, considering she was of average height with a normal hair color, especially compared to Sylvain, who stood over six feet tall and had bright, bordering-on-garish red hair.

“So,” Sylvain continued, “where were you towards the end of the night? You know, when the _thing_ happened.”

“You mean the scream and the creepy writing on the mirror?” A shiver ran down her spine that had nothing to do with autumnal wind blowing through campus. “I was in the bathroom on our - Dorothea’s and mine, I mean - floor. The sound carries shockingly well from bathroom to bathroom - I thought for a second it was coming from the hallway. I think I was actually one of the last people to make it down there, though, because I had to redo my costume, and Dorothea had ditched me to see what was going on.” Ingrid laughed uncomfortably. She’d regretted the Wonder Woman costume since she’d first tried it on, but by then it was too late to find something else. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, and she liked the way it looked when it was her alone in her room, but she spent the whole night feeling cold and exposed, like everyone was staring at her, and she had no control over what they could and couldn’t see. On top of all that, it was a pain in the ass to get the thing on and off. She’d ended up in a hellish cycle, where she kept drinking to ease her anxiety, but all the liquid meant frequent, annoying bathroom trips, on which she’d had to drag Dorothea or Hilda or Petra to help do up her costume afterward. Dorothea had been the one with her when the girl started screaming, and Ingrid had barely managed to wrangle herself back into the bodysuit before joining everyone else on the floor below.

“What do you think it meant?” Sylvain asked. A shadowed look crossed his face, and Ingrid suspected that he only wanted to hear her opinion to compare it to his own.

Ingrid ran through it again - _Hanneman was not innocent, you are all his victims_. She didn’t have the first idea of what it could mean, aside from what it plainly stated. “I guess...that Hanneman had betrayed us all in some way? I have no idea. I mean, I don’t feel like a victim - I can’t think of anything he ever did to me, aside from failing me on a lab report when I messed up my sources. Why, what do you think it means?”

He’d been waiting for her to ask. “What if the reason we don’t feel like victims is that he did something we don’t know about?” 

“And that’s why whoever wrote the message wrote it - because there’s something we don’t know about that we should.”

“Exactly,” Sylvain said, tapping his nose with his finger. “Now we just have to figure out what it was, and who wrote the message.”

“I actually had a thought about that,” Ingrid said. It was a thought she didn’t like to acknowledge, but she was desperate to hear Sylvain’s opinion of it. “You can’t get into the dorms without a student keycard, and you can’t get into the girls’ side specifically without a girls’ keycard. I don’t think I’ve ever seen an adult in the dorms outside of moving days, and it would be pretty conspicuous if there was an adult there last night.”

“What are you saying?”

“I think it had to be a student.”

Sylvain mulled this over a moment. “That makes sense. Is that a bad thing?”

“Maybe not,” Ingrid reasoned, “but that basically guarantees that a student is in on this whole thing, which means it wasn’t a random murder, and it didn’t have something to do with the government or anyone on the outside. Hanneman’s murder is directly related to the school, and likely a student. I don’t want to accuse any of our classmates of murder, exactly, but…”

“But at this point, it seems like someone who lives in the dorm knows a lot more than they should,” Sylvain finished for her.

“Exactly. And, since it happened on the girls’ side, it couldn’t have been a boy who wasn’t at the party. So whoever wrote it is probably either a girl or a senior.”

“Or both.”

“Or both,” Ingrid agreed.

“So we’ve narrowed down the _who_ , kind of, so now we need to know the why and the how.”

Ingrid nodded seriously. “And we’ve got just about nothing on that front. We aren’t doing very well as investigators.”

“That might be because we haven’t actually done any investigating.”

Ingrid couldn’t deny that. They’d been swept up in the prospect of solving the murder at first, but the idea of actually breaking any laws to get information had quickly cowed them. They’d done a lot of talking and imagining and theorizing until Felix started protesting mealtimes to get them to shut up. They had long worn out the information they had, with nothing new to guide them, until the writing on the mirror had appeared.

“I think it’s time to stage a little break-in,” Ingrid said, her skin tingling at the mere idea of it. “We’re not going to get anywhere without some evidence. The way I see it, we have two choices - his apartment, or his lab.”

“There’s no way we’re getting into his apartment,” Sylvain said plainly. “Not with it being an actual murder scene.”

“No, I agree. I think we should go for the lab.” Ingrid eyed the science building as they neared it. While most of the building took the form of a two-story rectangle, the front extended an additional three stories into the sky, with a turret at the top, castle-like, for astronomy and cosmology courses that relied on studying the night sky. A few of the windows were lit, with students or professors conducting weekend research or attending to samples that needed daily treatment, but Ingrid focused on one in particular that had been dark all semester. “I don’t know if we’ll find anything,” she said, finally tearing her eyes away from Hanneman’s office to look back to Sylvain, “but I think our chances of getting caught are a lot lower. If we don’t find anything, we can always go to the apartment later, but that feels like much more of an actual crime, and way too big to start with.”

Sylvain nodded emphatically. “The lab it is then. This is kinda fun, Ingie, you and me, like Sherlock and Watson.” He nudged her with his elbow, nearly knocking her off the sidewalk.

She laughed. “Who’s who, then?”

“Oh, you’re obviously Sherlock,” Sylvain said. “I won’t pretend to be the brains here.”

“Just the charm?”

He winked. “You know it.”

It wasn’t until they’d reached the stables and Ingrid was prepping Ritta that she remembered to ask about Felix.

“Oh!” Sylvain exclaimed, excited. “Yeah, it’s Annette.”

“Annette?”

“Yeah, apparently they’ve been hanging out all semester, and Felix thought she liked him, and he _definitely_ likes her - seriously, Ingie, I’ve never seen him have a crush like this - and so last night he tried to kiss her, and I guess she totally rejected him.”

The influx of information whirled through her mind as she tried to process all of it. “This is - I barely even see them together.”

“Yeah, well I guess they hang out on the roof late at night.”

Ingrid had forgotten about the roof. They’d used to hang out there together, the four of them. “I didn’t realize he still went up there.”

“He’s a secretive one, our Felix.”

Ingrid mounted Ritta, securing her helmet, and led the horse onto the jumping course. She liked having her Sunday rides to exercise Ritta, and they were often one of only a few pairs who came through. Today, they were the only ones on the course, and Sylvain watched from the side, providing coaching that was half helpful, half obnoxious. 

It began well - Ritta was an excellently trained horse, and because they’d been together so long, she listened to and followed Ingrid’s commands about as well as any horse ever could. 

They’d gone over the same jump several times in a row, and they rounded the corner to take it again, Sylvain still calling words of advice that Ingrid barely heard. Ritta approached the jump, and just as she should have been jumping into the air, she pulled up abruptly. It happened, sometimes, when they hadn’t paced it out correctly, and her strides weren’t timed right to jump it cleanly. It was a refusal, and normally, Ritta would have stuttered to a stop and that would have been it.

But this time, they got too close, going too fast, and Ritta kicked up onto her hind legs, her front legs high in the air. “Whoa,” Ingrid called, panic coursing through her veins, squeezing her thighs as tightly as she could around Ritta’s back, hands clenched on the reins. She could hear Sylvain’s own “whoa”s distantly as Ritta came back down on her front legs with such force that Ingrid nearly flew over her horse’s head. Her face brushed the side of Ritta’s neck as her momentum carried her forward, her butt lifting briefly from the saddle, before Ritta kicked up again onto her hind legs, pivoting to try and get away from the jump.

This time, Ingrid couldn’t hold on. She slipped from the saddle with a shriek and dropped hard onto the ground, her head snapping back against the hard-packed dirt so hard her ears started ringing.

She was vaguely aware of Sylvain yelling her name, asking if she was ok, but Ingrid couldn’t even move. She sucked in air, trying to replace the wind that had been knocked out of her. She coughed in the dust Ritta had kicked up, and groaned as the shock of the fall was slowly replaced by pain. Her head roared with it, and her entire spine seemed to be pulsing from the impact, heat coursing from the base of her skull all the way to her tailbone. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, and she willed herself not to start crying.

A face appeared over hers - Sylvain, eyes wide with concern, sunglasses pushed up on top of his hair to see her better. “Ingrid! Are you ok? Can you feel your legs?”

“Ow - I - _yes_ , I can feel my legs, why is that your first question?” she groaned, wiggling her toes for good measure.

“Technically, it was my second question,” Sylvain corrected. “It looked like you hit your head pretty hard.”

“I did,” Ingrid said, grunting as she tried to sit up. 

“Oh, no you don’t,” Sylvain said, putting his palms to her shoulders and forcing her back down. “Just - try to relax a minute, ok? I’ll get Ritta back into her stall, and then I’m taking you to see Manuela.”

Ingrid started to protest but stopped when she realized he was right. She felt awful. Maybe if she hadn’t started the day with a headache and a sour stomach, she’d be better off now, but as it was…

“Sylvain?” she asked, as he stood to fetch Ritta, who had walked to a far corner to sulk. “Will you bring me a bucket?”

“A - bucket?”

“I think I’m gonna puke.”

Sylvain blanched, and then ran to find a bucket, bringing back the first one he could find, tossing dirt out of it before bringing it over. He knelt beside her just in time for her to prop herself up on her elbows, lean over the bucket, and retch. Sylvain unclipped her helmet and brushed sweaty strands of hair away from her face. 

When it was over, she laid back on the ground, not caring that she was getting dirt in her braid, and let out a long groan. Sylvain ran a hand over her head. “You might be concussed, Ingrid,” he said, his soothing tone not matching his words.

“No,” she protested weakly.

“I think it’s a little late to argue,” he murmured, still smoothing her hair, worry and something like fondness ghosting over his features.

She grabbed his wrist lightly, and his motion stopped. “I’m glad you’re here.”

He smiled at her, not his standard, cocky grin, but a smaller smile, borne of affection, that he reserved for only his closest friends. “I am too. Ok,” he gave a firm nod and then slid one arm beneath her shoulders, and the other under her knees. 

“What are you doing?” she asked, instinctively wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

“Carrying you,” he grunted, seemingly not having realized how hard it was to lift someone from the ground. He pushed himself up anyway, huffing out a breath as he stood. “See?”

“You don’t need to carry me -”

“Hush, you’re concussed.”

“Well, I’m a lot heavier than I look, so -”

“Nah, you’re light as a feather,” he strained. He carried her all the way to Ritta’s stall and sat her down to lean against the wall, and brought her a clean bucket. “Just in case,” he winked.

If her head wasn’t spinning, she would’ve rolled her eyes, but as it was, she just muttered a quiet “thank you,” as he jogged back out to the jumping course to fetch Ritta and the first bucket.

Ingrid watched from the floor as Sylvain got Ritta back in her stall and taken care of more efficiently than she’d ever seen him do anything. “Ok,” he said, brushing the dirt off his hands as he turned to Ingrid. “Let’s get you to the infirmary.”

“Let’s,” Ingrid said, pushing herself up from the stable floor, “but I’m walking.”

“Ingrid -”

“Sylvain. I promise if I start to feel bad, I’ll let you carry me. But you’ve already done more than enough, and I can get myself there. Ok?”

“Fine,” he relinquished, and, true to his word, he let her walk the whole way there on her own.

The infirmary had several separate exam rooms, and on weekdays, Manuela had a couple of nurses on staff who could assist with taking vitals and getting precursor information, but they all had the weekend off. Manuela greeted them herself, and after a brief explanation of what happened, she motioned towards one of the exam rooms.

“Miss Galatea, you can go through. Mr. Gautier, you can wait out here.”

“Oh,” Ingrid paused, looking from Sylvain to Manuela, the turn from one to another resulting in a new wave of dizziness. “Can he come in, actually? I mean,” she glanced back to Sylvain, “if you want to. You can leave if you want.”

“No, no,” Sylvain said, reaching a hand to brush against her elbow. “I’ll stay as long as you want me to, if that’s ok with Dr. Casagranda.”

Manuela looked at the pair of them appraisingly. “If you want him to be in there with you, that’s fine with me. It’s up to you.”

“Yes, please,” Ingrid said, and Manuela led them both into an exam room, Sylvain keeping one hand on Ingrid’s back for support. Ingrid couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason why she wanted Sylvain to stay, especially with the fog starting to settle in her head. She reasoned that she needed someone else to hear Manuela’s instructions, in case she couldn’t remember later, though there was another part of her that selfishly just wanted him there for comfort.

Ingrid glanced around the exam room as Manuela pulled down a new sheet of paper to cover the vinyl bed. Ingrid was pretty sure she’d been in this room before, but it was hard to be sure - she barely came to the infirmary outside of the required physical exam at the beginning of every year. She examined a poster advertising an opera company that she was pretty sure she’d seen before and nodded to herself before taking her perch on the exam bed, Sylvain in a plastic chair by her side. 

Manuela ran through her list of precursor questions. No, Ingrid didn’t smoke; she sometimes drank; she tried to get 8 hours of sleep every night. “And are you currently sexually active?” Manuela asked, as casually as if she was asking about the weather.

Ingrid’s eyes widened, always caught off guard by that question, even though Manuela always asked it. “Uh, no.”

One of Manuela’s expertly shaped eyebrows twitched slightly as she looked to Sylvain, who put his hands up innocently. “Hey, don’t look at me. I’m just the guy that brings her to the doctor.”

“No, I’m not,” Ingrid insisted. She glanced at Sylvain, who was failing to suppress a smirk, his cheeks pink.

“Very well,” Manuela said, jotting something down in her notes. “Let’s get on with the examination then, hm?”

She put Ingrid through a series of little exercises, from following a finger with her eyes to standing on one leg. By the end of it, Ingrid felt like Manuela may as well have taken a jackhammer to her head.

“Well, Miss Galatea, I don’t think you have a concussion.”

Ingrid perked up. “Really?”

“Mhm,” Manuela nodded, looping her stethoscope around her neck. “But I want you to come in every day this week for follow-ups, and no riding until I say so. For today, I want you to go lay down and take it easy.” She opened a drawer and pulled out a notepad, stooping to write something on it. “If that prevents you from finishing any assignments, show your teachers this. Not much they can do up against a doctor’s note.”

“Thank you, Dr. Casagranda.”

“Of course. I’ll see you tomorrow to check-in.”

Ingrid and Sylvain left the infirmary together, both of them squinting in the sunlight. Ingrid rubbed at the back of her neck, the strained muscles already sore. Sylvain eyed her carefully, then grabbed her sleeve. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.” 

Ingrid let him lead her to the dorms, still mulling over her visit with Manuela. “She thought we were dating,” she said bluntly.

Sylvain glanced back at her, surprised. “Uh, yeah, I guess she did.”

“Sorry.”

Sylvain laughed. “Why on earth would you be sorry about that?”

Ingrid shrugged, wincing at the pinched feeling in her shoulders. “If other people think we’re dating, it might ruin your shot with other girls.”

“Since when have you cared about me doing well with other girls? And anyway, I think I’ve ruined my own reputation thoroughly enough on my own.” He held the door open for her, and they sighed in the warmth of the dorm. “Besides, being mistaken for your boyfriend is nothing short of an honor. Keycard?”

He let them into the girls’ dorm with her ID, leaving her to think on what he’d said. She didn’t bring it up again, but she tucked it away in her memory to ask him about later. He helped her into the elevator, pressing the button for the fourth floor. When they got to her door, Sylvain once again asked for her key, and she once again handed it over, letting him do all the work for once.

Her room was neat and dark, the perfect place to recover from a head injury. Sylvain deposited her bag on the ground. “Ok, you’ve got everything you need?” He asked. “Water, painkillers - other than ibuprofen?”

“Mhm,” she confirmed, and then frowned at him. “Are you leaving?”

“Well, yeah,” he said, confused. “You need rest, I figured you might like to do that alone.”

“Oh, ok,” she said, knowing her disappointment must be showing on her face.

“I can...stay, if you want me to,” he offered, turning back to face her.

“Only if you want to stay.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, neither one willing to be the one who asked, the one who wanted. Finally, Sylvain broke the silence, and said, “I’ll stay. Um, but maybe I’ll go into the hall, for a second, so you can change?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Ingrid said, an airy feeling filling her chest. Sylvain stepped out, and she changed as quickly as her aching body would let her, throwing aside any pretense of togetherness and changing straight into her comfiest pajamas. She undid her braid, enjoying the lightened tension of her hair no longer being pulled tight against her scalp, and let Sylvain back in.

Wordlessly, they crawled into her bed together, perfectly chaste, sitting side by side with their backs against the headboard. Sylvain draped one arm around Ingrid, and when she leaned into his shoulder, he rested his cheek on the top of her head, their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces. He ran his fingers through her hair again, like he had when she was laying in the dirt of the equestrian center, and she felt herself begin to melt into his touch.

Ingrid pulled up her favorite episode of _Planet Earth_ up on her computer, the one about the deep sea, and they watched it in silence together, the volume and brightness as far down as they could go for the sake of both of their throbbing heads.

\--

By the time the next weekend rolled around, Ingrid was basically back in perfect health, with the exception of her still-stiff neck. All of her follow-up visits to Manuela had gone well, and she’d been cleared for regular activity, though both Manuela and Sylvain made it clear that she should never again ride the jump course without someone else at the stables, advice Ingrid had accepted with only a small amount of shame.

Ingrid was thrilled to have the all-clear by Saturday, not because it gave her the opportunity to ride, but because it meant she and Sylvain could finally stage their heist in Hanneman’s lab, taking full advantage of the November Field Day.

The school had these field days three times a semester, with booths run by the student organizations, food from local vendors, and performances by various student groups. It was in equal parts a chance for students to show off for whichever of their parents attended, an advertisement to potential applicants, and another way to force student engagement, since attendance was, not necessarily mandatory, but very highly encouraged. 

This was where Sylvain and Ingrid had roped Felix into their plan. Part of the field day always included a series of fencing matches so the school could show off its championship-winning team. Felix’s job was to “half-throw,” as Sylvain had put it, his match with Ignatz, meaning to let Ignatz keep it close, even though they all knew Felix could beat Ignatz blindfolded. If Felix let Ignatz win as many points as he lost, the bout would stretch on, giving Ingrid and Sylvain plenty of time away while all eyes were on the fencers. Felix had even managed to convince Petra to do the same in her match, though he told her it was to boost her opponent’s morale and entertain the crowd.

Clouds laid gray and flat above the field day set up, threatening snow. Ingrid and Sylvain were pretending to help Felix get his fencing gear ready amongst a series of extension cords connecting the electrical equipment to the generator they’d brought out especially for the fencing match.

“Ok, so you’ll text us as soon as you’re done?” Sylvain asked.

“Yes, Sylvain, we’ve been over this a hundred times,” Felix grumbled, adjusting a strap near his waist. “I’ll text you when my bout is over, and I’ll text you again when Petra’s is halfway through. If you aren’t back by the time her bout is done, I’m supposed to come and find you. Do you really think people will notice if you’re not here?”

“Rhea sees all,” Sylvain muttered, and the three of them glanced to where their headmistress was touring the tents. 

Her long hair flowed gracefully down her back, and even though she wore a long formal dress with no coat, she didn’t look cold in the slightest. As they observed her, her glance slid over to them. Sylvain yelped, and they all smiled at her, trying (and likely failing) to look innocent. She returned their smile and inclined her head to them before turning back to the tents.

“See? She’s spooky.”

“Ok, make sure you’re back,” Felix said, much more grimly than he’d been before.

Ingrid and Sylvain slinked away, blending back into the crowd as Catherine grabbed a microphone and stepped onto the fencing floor they’d laid out on the grass. “Hello, everyone, if you’d like to gather around, the fencing is about to begin.”

Ingrid and Sylvain looked at each other, nodded, and peeled away from the onlookers towards the science building.

The large building was eerily quiet with the whole school population on the green. The fluorescent lights were off, and they had only the light from the windows to see by. “Hanneman’s lab is on the second floor, right?” Sylvain whispered.

Ingrid nodded, suddenly anxious. “Let’s go,” she whispered back. 

They made their way up the stairwell, glancing out the windows to see if anyone had noticed their absence, but all eyes were on the fencers, as planned. There was a cheer, and Ingrid watched as Ignatz celebrated a point. She knew Felix didn’t like losing, even if the match was only for show, and she reminded herself to thank him properly later. 

They found Hanneman’s lab easily, as it was the only one with no label. Sylvain tried the door - locked. “Not to worry,” he muttered, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a single bobby pin.

Ingrid’s jaw dropped. “Sylvain, when you said you had a way to open doors, I thought you meant a lockpicking kit or something, not a fucking hairpin!”

Sylvain raised one hand to her coolly. “I don’t need a lockpick,” he whispered, his usual grin making an appearance. He slid the bobby pin into the lock and, after a minute of fiddling, a small _click_ echoed through the empty hallway.

“Oh,” Ingrid said as the door swung open.

“What’d I tell you?” Sylvain asked, posing with his hands behind his head. “After you, Sherlock.”

She laughed in spite of her shock. “Thanks, Watson.”

They entered the laboratory, Sylvain shutting the door carefully behind them. They still didn’t dare turn on a light, and the cool sunlight from the window illuminated the room in shades of gray. 

The room had several long tables - benches, as Ingrid had heard Annette refer to them. There were glass cabinets lining the walls containing various instruments and tools - beakers and flasks of every height and shape, lined up like a battlement of misfit soldiers. A squat wooden desk sat in one corner, its top completely bare. There were several pieces of technology around that Ingrid didn’t recognize, all of them surpassing the rudimentary dissections she’d done in her freshman biology class. The room was also, to their disappointment, perfectly neat and tidy. There wasn’t a single notebook or sheet of paper left out; nothing to tell them what he’d been working on before his death.

“Hm.” Sylvain hummed. “Where do you want to start?”

“I don’t know,” Ingrid admitted. What she didn’t admit is that she’d expected something obvious. Why had she thought she could walk in, pick up the first sheet of paper she saw, and find all the answers conveniently laid out?

“Is that a refrigerator?” Sylvain asked, immediately distracted by the low hum emanating from the short refrigerator at the back of the room. “I thought you weren’t supposed to have food in the lab.”

“Maybe when it’s your own lab there are different rules,” Ingrid said, walking towards the desk. She tried a couple of drawers, finding them all locked. She was about to call Sylvain and his bobby pin over when he spoke up.

“Hey, Ingrid, come look at this.”

He was crouched in front of the open refrigerator. “Sylvain, I don’t care about how moldy his old sandwich is.”

“No, it’s not that - there’s no food in here. I think these are samples of something.” He stood with a tray of test tubes in his hand.

“Oh,” she murmured, and hurried over to him. “What are they?”

Sylvain shook his head. “I have no idea.”

Ingrid picked up a test tube between two fingers. There was no identifying information on it, besides the letters HVG in careful black writing. Ingrid looked at the sample inside - a small amount of clear liquid, and a little whitish blob at the bottom. “What’s HVG?”

Sylvain shrugged. “Does yours say HVG? Mine says LVH.” He held his test tube up for her to see. It looked much the same as hers did - clear liquid surrounding a little off-white blob, but with a different label.

“Weird. If they’re all the same, shouldn’t they be labeled the same?” She looked at several others in the rack, each one with a different three-letter label. She pulled each one up to read the label before putting it back in its place, waiting for something to stand out. Finally, she found it, but instead of the eureka moment she’d hoped for, the sight of it made her blood run cold.

IBG

_Ingrid Brandl Galatea_

She nearly dropped the vial with the anxiety now shooting through her. She began her search through the rack anew, frantic, now looking for three specific labels, all of which she found. 

FHF, DAB, SJG

“What?” Sylvain asked on seeing the way she stared at the vials in her hands.

“Look!” she said breathlessly, holding them up for him to see. 

He frowned, not seeing it. “Oh,” he laughed, pointing to the last one. “Those are my initials.”

“Yeah, Sylvain, I know.” She held up the others in succession. FHF. “Felix Hugo Fraldarius.” DAB. “Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd.” IBG.

“Ingrid Brandl Galatea,” Sylvain finished, his eyes round. “Wait, so this means…”

“These are samples from us.”

They stared at each other, horrified. “You think this is what the message on the mirror meant?”

Ingrid shook her head. “I don’t know, but probably, right? I don’t remember willingly giving over a sample of something - he must’ve gotten these without our consent.”

“How?”

“I have no idea.” Ingrid’s heart thundered in her chest. Her body was hot and cold at the same time, and she was struggling to remember how to breathe. “Sylvain, this is…”

“Crazy? Batshit fucking crazy? Yeah, I know.” He was still staring at the vials now in his hands. “How are we going to figure out what he did with them, though? What if he was making clones of us or something?”

That was enough to shake Ingrid from the rising panic back into excitement. She grabbed his upper arm, her eyes wide. “Oh! I was going to ask you just before you found these - his desk drawers are locked. Can you open them?”

Sylvain nodded wordlessly. He snapped a couple of pictures of the test tubes before replacing them in the fridge, and followed Ingrid to the desk. 

He popped the first drawer open. They pawed through it - nothing but pens and other scattered bits of office supplies.

He opened the middle drawer - a stack of blank sheets of printer paper.

He opened the bottom drawer, and they both gasped audibly at the stack of five neat but used lab notebooks. Ingrid pulled one out cautiously and laid it on the desk. They stared at it a moment, taking in the title written in the same neat handwriting as the labels on the test tubes. 

_The Student Genetics Project_

“So… he was studying our genes?” Ingrid asked, disdain dripping from her voice. “Why?”

“Best case scenario, morbid curiosity,” Sylvain muttered. “Worst case scenario...I don’t even know what the worst case scenario is.”

Ingrid opened the notebook, simultaneously ready and dreading to see whatever his notes said, and stopped immediately. She recognized the now-familiar sets of initials on the first page, but they were followed by strings of letters and numbers. 

“More initials?” Sylvain asked, tracing the lines of the paper with a slender finger, noting the letters set apart in groups of three.

“I don’t think so,” Ingrid reasoned. “All our initials are written in caps, but these are all lowercase. Plus there are numbers, too - I don’t know how that would be initials. I think it’s some kind of code.”

Sylvain groaned. “Of course - of _fucking_ course Hanneman would write his notes in code. What are we supposed to do with these?”

“I don’t know,” Ingrid started, interrupted partway through by the chime of their phones.

**Felix:** I’m done. Start wrapping it up.

 **Felix:** Find anything?

**Sylvain:** Dude, you have no idea.

Sylvain finished the text just in time to watch as Ingrid shoved all five notebooks, all with the _Student Genetics Project_ title, into her bag. “You’re taking them?”

“Yeah,” Ingrid said, as though it was obvious. “If there’s information to be found, it’ll be in one of these. I don’t want to have to break back in here again.”

Sylvain hesitated only a moment before helping her stuff the notebooks into her bag. They shut the drawer, scanned the room one last time, and left the lab, feeling much more unsettled now than when they’d entered.

\--

“So, he was analyzing our genetics?” Felix asked that night. The three of them were on the floor of Sylvain’s room, Ingrid and Sylvain going over everything they’d figured out, from the knowledge that a student had written the message on Halloween to what they’d seen in the lab. “What the fuck? Why?”

“We don’t know,” Ingrid said soberly. “We can’t read his notes, either; they’re in some weird code.”

Felix frowned. “What a fucking weirdo,” he grumbled, raking a hand through his hair. “So, what now? How are you going to figure out what he was doing?”

Sylvain and Ingrid traded a look. They had discussed their plan for this on their walk back to the field day. “Well, we were actually hoping you could help with that,” Ingrid ventured. “See, we figure the people most likely to know what his notes mean are the students who worked with him.”

Felix furrowed his brow. “So? I never worked with him.”

“We know,” Sylvain said, slowly, “but you know who did?”

Realization dawned on Felix’s face. “No, absolutely not.”

“Please, Felix? Just ask her? You’re way closer to her than either of us,” Ingrid pleaded.

“And how do you know that?” Felix asked, immediately swiveling to look at Sylvain. Before Sylvain could answer, though, Felix kept talking. “Besides, you don’t even want me talking to her. Annette is _pissed_ at me right now - she won’t even look at me. Either of you would have a better chance than I would,” he finished bitterly.

Ingrid felt a pang of sympathy echo in her chest. “She’s seriously that mad?”

Felix nodded. “Trust me, I can’t get near her right now. If you want information from Annette, you have to get it yourselves.” He paused a moment, before continuing. “Just - be careful about it, ok? She was close to Hanneman, and she’s still not over his death. I know she’s mad at me, and I probably ruined…I just don’t want her to get hurt all over again.”

Sylvain and Ingrid shared another look. “We’ll be nice,” Ingrid promised. “I swear.”

\--

At breakfast the next day, they mounted their attack. They waited until she got up for her second cup of coffee, and Ingrid and Sylvain both left their seats to follow her, chased by a reminder from Felix to be nice.

“Hey, Annette,” Ingrid started.

Annette jumped, sloshing coffee out of her nearly full mug. “Oh! Ingrid, Sylvain, you startled me.”

“Sorry about that,” Sylvain said, turning on his charm. “Here, let me,” he said, fetching napkins for her.

“We wanted to ask you something,” Ingrid said, pulling Annette’s focus away from Sylvain, who was now mopping up coffee from Annette’s shoes.

“I - ok,” Annette said, trying not to step on Sylvain. “What’s up? This isn’t about Felix, is it?” she asked, her expression darkening.

“Oh, God no,” Ingrid scoffed. “It’s about Hanneman, actually.”

The relief that had briefly shown on Annette’s face on hearing that they weren’t there to talk about Felix quickly slid away into apprehension. “Oh, ok. Um, what about him?”

“You worked with him, right? We were just wondering if you knew if he ever took notes in code.”

“Code?” Annette asked, as Sylvain grabbed her mug away from her to refill. “No, not that I know of. I didn’t ever see his personal notes, though. All the notes we took on our fruit flies were communal.”

“Fruit flies?”

Annette nodded. “Yeah, our research was on fruit flies. Trying to track mating behaviors. It’s super interesting, if you want to know more.”

Ingrid put a finger up, her brain trying to process this new information. “So, you never did genetics work?”

Annette shook her head. “Oh, no. I did some over the summer, but Hanneman stuck mostly to behavioral science - I think it was easier when your assistants are high schoolers.”

“Huh,” Ingrid said, meeting Sylvains expression of bewilderment with one of her own. “Well, thanks, Annette, this has been enlightening.”

“No problem,” she said, taking her refilled mug from Sylvain. “Oh, if you wanted to know more, you could ask Edelgard.”

“Edelgard?”

“Yeah, she worked with him over the summer. If anyone knows a bunch about whatever research he was doing or his notes or anything, it would be her.”

Ingrid nodded slowly, pieces beginning to fall into place in her mind. “Right. Thanks again, Annette.”

Ingrid and Sylvain rejoined Felix and summarized the conversation for him.

“So, it’s possible that Edelgard not only knows what his notes say, but actually did some of the research with him?” Felix asked.

Ingrid nodded, and frowned, thinking over everything that had happened in the Hanneman case.

“Are you guys going to talk to her?”

Ingrid looked over to Sylvain, and she could tell he was running through the list of clues the same way she was. The way they’d narrowed down the Halloween vandal, the notes, the samples, the red lipstick on the mirror.

When Ingrid and Sylvain answered, it was simultaneous, with the same heavy tone.

“No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)))))
> 
> So, funnily enough, a lot of the events of this chapter were some of the first ones I plotted out - Ingrid and Sylvain's walk to the equestrian center was actually the first scene I wrote (though I completely redid it for this chapter). 
> 
> Also, if anyone is wondering, the bible verse is Romans 3:3-5. I'm actually not Christian and have never been to a Catholic service, so I hope I wrote it passably. The things I've had to research for this fic...
> 
> As always, your comments and kudos are deeply appreciated! I love hearing your thoughts, and y'all have been so nice.
> 
> Feel free to find me on tumblr@silenticarus. Cheers y'all!


	7. A Winter's Ball, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter turned out quite lengthy again (over 11k! I'm breaking personal records over here, y'all!), so for ease of reading, I've split it up into Parts 1 and 2. I will be uploading the second part as soon as I upload this one, so you won't have to go a full week without the proper ending!
> 
> Happy reading!

Felix, Dimitri, and Sylvain stood side by side over the sinks in the hall bathroom, scrubbing their faces with something Sylvain said he got from Japan. Felix thought it smelled like his 80-year-old Baba, but Sylvain was being nicer to him than he ever had been, and Felix wanted to ride it out as long as possible. 

Ever since the whole mess with Annette happened, Sylvain had been walking on eggshells around Felix, like he was afraid Felix would snap if anyone mentioned her name. He wasn’t  _ that  _ sensitive about it - it had hurt, of course, and it was only made worse by the fact that she flat out refused to talk to him about anything that wasn’t related to school. In the almost two months since Halloween, she’d treated him with base courtesy and nothing more. He supposed it was better than the cold shoulder he’d gotten at first, but it was still incredibly unsatisfying. 

He’d tried a lot of things to bridge the gap between them. At first, he respected her space, but after two weeks and the realization that he missed talking to her more than he’d thought he would, he couldn’t sit to the side any longer. After that, he’d started using the Sylvain-and-Ingrid approach of buying baked goods, which had at least earned a polite  _ thank you _ and the progression of her looking at and speaking to him during their regular study group. He’d hoped it would progress from there, but after they returned from Thanksgiving break and she still refused to entertain a conversation on anything that wasn’t directly related to school, he was at his wit’s end, and approached Mercedes.

“No,” she’d said, firmly, when he asked her for any information on why Annette was so angry. “If Annette has set a boundary, I’m not going to cross it.”

“Please, Mercedes,” he’d said, about ready to kneel down and hold his hands out. Felix was not a beggar, never the type to ask for anything more than once, but he was reaching his limit. “I hate asking, but I’m desperate. I just want to know  _ why _ she’s so mad at me.”

Mercedes wasn’t cruel or haughty, so Felix knew that the look of pity on her face was genuine, but still, she turned away. “I think that’s part of the problem. And,” she went on, as he opened his mouth to argue, “I know that’s not exactly fair. I think she knows that too. The best thing you can probably do right now is just go back to how things were. Be classmates. And eventually, maybe it’ll get back to how it was earlier this year.”

Felix didn’t point out that it had taken them three years to get to the friendship point of their relationship the first time, or that they didn’t have another three years now.

Felix couldn’t help but think, as he stared at himself and his friends in the long bathroom mirror, that neither of them would have this problem. Dimitri had wooed the first girl he’d ever liked almost instantaneously, and Sylvain was - well, he was Sylvain. How on earth was either of them supposed to sympathize, let alone help, when they never had any issues with the girls they liked?

The scrubbing part of the facial torture completed, the three splashed water on their newly exfoliated, shiny faces, their hair kept out of the way with thick, black headbands supplied, like all else, by Sylvain. “Boys,” he said, grinning devilishly at their reflections, “we look good.”

“Is it time to get dressed yet?” Dimitri asked. 

“Is it time to start drinking yet?” Felix echoed. 

“Sheesh, you guys are on edge,” Sylvain muttered as they trotted back down the hallway to Sylvain’s room, where they’d all agreed to get dressed together. 

“Just ready for it to be over,” Felix grumbled, collapsing onto Sylvain’s bed. 

“Oh, get over it,” Sylvain said, whacking Felix’s socked foot. “Perk up. So Annette wasn’t into it, big deal. You’ve got a hot date tonight, do you not?”

Felix pushed himself up on his elbows. “My date is Ingrid, and only for picture-taking purposes.”

“Exactly,” Sylvain smirked. “Ingrid’s the hottest date you could get - don’t go taking her for granted.”

Felix flopped back onto the mattress, staring at the smooth plane of the ceiling. “If you like her so much, why didn’t you go with her?”

Sylvain nudged Felix’s hip with his knee. “I don’t  _ like _ her like her,” he insisted, even as Felix watched the tops of his ears go pink. “And anyway, if Ingrid and I went together, who would you go with, hm? Or would you have even asked anyone?”

Felix pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes until fireworks bloomed across his vision, hoping that maybe if he pressed hard enough, he’d push himself through the mattress and get out of going to this dance. Yes, he was only going with Ingrid for the sake of having their photos taken, and no, if she hadn’t agreed, he wouldn’t have asked anyone. It had come down to the fact that the one person he wanted to go with was ignoring him, and the only people she’d ever gone with were either dead or Dimitri. 

They were not a couple destined for romance, but at least they could have fun together, and neither would be alone.

“What do you think?” Dimitri’s baritone cut through Felix’s moping. He blinked in the now-bright light of the room, where Dimitri was holding up his dark blue suit. 

“It matches your eyes,” Felix deadpanned.

“Stop being an asshole,” Sylvain reprimanded. He looked over the suit again. “He’s right, though, it’ll look nice with your blue eyes. Good job, Felix. Now, it’s your turn. Moping time is over. Show and tell time is on.” Sylvain grabbed one of Felix’s ankles and yanked on it just hard enough to pull Felix down the bed a few inches. 

“Fine,” Felix grumbled, pushing himself the rest of the way off the mattress, saying a silent farewell to Sylvain’s quilt. He grabbed his suit bag from where he’d hung it on Sylvain’s door and unzipped it to show off his suit. 

As much as Felix hated school dances, and as much as he’d been dreading this one more than most, he was quietly thrilled with the suit he’d picked out. It fit him perfectly, both in terms of tailoring and aesthetics.

“All black?” Sylvain asked either awe or horror in his voice.

“Head to toe,” Felix said.

“It looks amazing,” Dimitri said, admiring the full length of the suit. 

“Yeah, I’m tempted to make fun of you for being emo, but this looks sick,” Sylvain nodded, admiring the jacket, shirt, and tie, all in matching shades of black. “Unfortunately, though, as nice as you both will look, neither of you will be able to hold a candle to me.” He grinned wickedly, and Felix got a familiar feeling of thrilling dread in his stomach, the way he did when Sylvain inflicted any of his awful plans on them.

“What did you do?” Dimitri asked, a similar note of apprehension in his voice.

“Behold,” Sylvain said and pulled the pieces of his suit out of his closet. Felix and Dimitri’s jaws fell open, mirror images, as they took in the vibrant teal suit Sylvain held out proudly.

“It’s…” Felix began.

“Loud,” Dimitri added.

“In a good way?” Felix finished, regretting the way it came out like a question.

Sylvain rolled his eyes with a dramatic sigh. “I appreciate the attempt at support, but you two need acting classes. Imagine how good it’s gonna look with my hair.”

Felix cocked his head, trying to put the colors together, and only coming up with  _ The Little Mermaid _ . 

“It’s gonna look great, dude,” Dimitri said, slapping Sylvain’s shoulder good-naturedly. “Emily is very lucky to be going with you.”

Felix just nodded, grateful that Dimitri was able to string together some encouragement that sounded real, and started putting his hair in his standard ponytail. Sylvain grabbed his wrist.

“No.”

“I - excuse me?”

“You can’t do the same thing you do with your hair every other day for ball night. What’s the point of having all this hair if you aren’t going to do anything with it?”

Felix shrugged. “Fewer haircuts?”

“Sit,” Sylvain ordered.

Felix obeyed, sitting cross-legged on the floor with his back to Sylvain’s bed. They’d been through this once before, on Halloween. Then, Sylvain was satisfied with leaving a few strands loose, but now, as he traced his fingers around the crown of Felix’s head, Felix could tell he was leaving more than a couple of pieces loose.

“Sylvain,” he warned. 

“Trust me,” Sylvain said. “The half-up half-down with the all-black suit? You’re gonna look like a fucking runway model, dude. This is actually incredibly selfless of me because now you’re gonna look a hundred times better than me tonight. Ok, up.” He grabbed Felix under the armpits and hoisted him up, leading him to the mirror. 

He had gotten so used to putting his long hair up every day that it was almost disconcerting to see it styled differently. With the top half pulled away from his face, it still wouldn’t be in his way, which is what he cared about, and the loose hair at the bottom framed his jaw in a way he could admit was flattering. He didn’t know about ‘runway model,’ exactly, but it definitely looked good. He met Sylvain’s eyes in the mirror and gave a small nod - enough that Sylvain would know he liked it, and appreciated it, without Felix having to say more than he was comfortable voicing.

Sylvain squeezed his shoulders. “If I was Annette, I wouldn’t be able to resist you after seeing you like this.”

“You can barely resist me as it is.” They grinned at each other, still only seeing each other through the mirror. 

“Alright, you two,” Dimitri interjected, flinging their dress pants at them, lengths of teal and black draping over their shoulders. “If you don’t get dressed soon, the girls are going to be ready before us.”

“And we  _ can’t _ have that.”

\--

Byleth watched from her perch on Ingrid’s desk as Annette and Mercedes analyzed each other’s makeup, Annette adding more blush to Mercedes’ nose (Byleth didn’t even know blush  _ went _ on the nose), Mercedes telling which of Annette’s eye needed thicker eyeliner to even them out. It was almost mathematical, the precision with which they painted their faces, and Byleth couldn’t help the creeping feeling of inadequacy that came over her as she thought about the minuscule amount of eyeliner and mascara she’d applied.

“Don’t compare yourself to them,” Ingrid murmured, as she ran a brush through her hair. “They’re artists. They’ve been practicing for so long, I’m convinced they could fully transform themselves if they wanted to. I’m actually glad you’re here - otherwise, all four of them would be forcing me to do way more than I actually want. Hilda is freakishly strong,” she added, nodding to where Hilda and Dorothea were sharing her wall mirror.

Byleth let out a sigh of relief. “It’s cool. But I don’t think it’s for me.” She and Ingrid exchanged familiar smiles, finally having spent enough time together that Byleth felt comfortable around the other girls. 

“Dorothea? If you want to do something to my hair, you should hurry, or we’ll run out of time,” Ingrid called, her voice low and stern. It was hard to tell whether Ingrid actually wanted Dorothea to do her hair - Byleth was pretty sure Ingrid could be happy with it down and loose - or if she was hoping that Dorothea really would run out of time.

But Dorothea looked up, her own hair already curled and styled, and grinned. “Be right there, darling.” She set to work on Ingrid’s hair as Byleth watched and the six of them chatted, carefree and happy.

“Soooo,” Hilda started when the conversation hit a lull. “I hear there’s lots of romantic drama within the Blue Lions these days.” She laid on Ingrid’s bed, her chin in her hands, her feet kicking in the air. “Annette? Care to comment?”

Annette wheeled around from where she’d been fixing her own hair in the mirror. “What?”

Hilda squinted, a mischievous look on her face. “I’ve heard some things about you and a certain angsty fencer, and no, I’m not talking about Ignatz.”

Dorothea laughed quietly, and Byleth felt Ingrid sit up straighter. All five of them watched Annette blush a deep red, her freckles highlighted against the red, as she turned back to the mirror. “There is  _ nothing _ going on with me and Felix,” she grumbled to her reflection. “Never has been.”

Ingrid tensed again, before saying, “Really? That’s not what he thought.”

Five heads snapped to look at Ingrid. “What do you mean?” Hilda asked, pushing herself into a sitting position.

“Just that, at least before - er, at the beginning of the year, he really thought you were going somewhere,” Ingrid said, stuttering under the sudden attention concentrated on her. “I think he was surprised when you didn’t feel the same way.”

Annette gaped at her for several seconds, flattening her bangs against her forehead nervously. “Oh,” she breathed, before turning back to the mirror, removing a bobby pin from one of her already immaculate buns, and replacing it again. “I didn’t realize he... well, nevermind.” She pulled herself together and looked back at Hilda, the instigator in all this. “You said you’ve heard of lots of romantic drama in the Blue Lions? Who else?”

It was a swift and not-at-all discrete subject change, and as much as everyone in the room wanted to press Annette for more, they all silently let it slide. “Ah, well, obviously Byleth and Dimitri, though that’s not so much of an ‘if’, but a ‘when.’”

Byleth resisted the urge to shrink into herself, though she couldn’t control the heat in her face. “I hope you’re right,” she admitted. The Dimitri thing seemed like gentle torture at this point - not only had he waited ages to ask her to the dance after promising that he would, but he’d only gotten more distant as the semester warred on, his courseload and prefect duties sending him into isolation. His friends had promised it was normal Dimitri behavior, but Byleth couldn’t help but internalize some of it, wondering how she could alleviate the pressure and draw him back out, but he seemed determined to be a hermit until exams were over. Now that they were, Byleth had high hopes for the dance, especially with most students leaving campus for winter break in the next couple of days. 

Hilda smiled at her before her gaze slid over to Byleth’s right. “The really interesting story seems to be about Miss Ingrid.”

She laughed. “How on earth could there be interesting gossip about me?”

Hilda shrugged. “I’m not suggesting anything, but it does seem like we hardly ever see you without Sylvain two steps behind.”

Ingrid laughed again, only stopping when Dorothea scolded her by tugging on her hair. “Did you get this from Manuela? Because we already know that she thinks we’re dating.” Ingrid shook her head, and Dorothea yanked again. “Ow! Sorry, Do. Anyway, Sylvain and I have always been friends - none of you should be surprised by this. It just seems like we’re together more because Felix and Dimitri are with us less.” She gave Annette a pointed look before shifting it to Byleth as best as she could without turning her head.

“How do you know they aren’t avoiding you two to give you space?” Dorothea asked, her voice dripping with suggestiveness. 

Ingrid scrunched her nose as she thought about it. “No, I don’t think Sylvain or I could ever see each other in that way. We’ve known each other too long - besides, I know how he treats girls, and I have no intention of joining a harem.”

“Ugh, you people are so boring!” Hilda lamented, rolling back over on the bed. “Dorothea, you have gossip, right? Please, feed me, I need it.”

They continued getting ready to the tune of several of Dorothea’s stories, each one more shocking than the last, until finally she was satisfied with the state of Ingrid’s hair and declared that it was time for getting dressed. 

“Please, Ingrid, tell me you didn’t buy yet another boring dress.”

Ingrid turned away from the mirror where she’d been admiring her new low updo and grinned. “Oh, you’re going to be so proud of me.” She opened her closet and pulled out a long, straight, black dress.

“What am I supposed to be proud of?” Dorothea moaned. “Ingrid, you promised you would branch out - oh.”

Ingrid brought the dress closer and held it in the light, so that they could all see the thin silver thread woven sparsely into the fabric, sending flashes of sparkling light out every so often. “Isn’t it perfect? It’s just subtle enough so that I won’t feel  _ too _ sparkly -”

“ - but just enough to catch the light,” Dorothea finished with a satisfied nod. “It’s perfect for you, Ingrid.” She turned to Byleth clasping her hands together. “Ok, I know I already know what yours is, but get it out and put it on, because I want to see it again.”

Byleth grabbed her dress bag stamped with the name of the store where she had gone with the other girls for a last-minute shopping adventure a couple of weeks prior. She’d been at a loss and felt self-conscious and uncomfortable in every dress she’d tried on until Dorothea had a stroke of genius and brought her every jumpsuit in the store. She didn’t know what it was about having pants at the bottom instead of a skirt, but Byleth felt a million times better, and the shopping trip ended successfully.

She pulled out the winning piece now to a delighted gasp from Dorothea. The one she’d picked was off-white, beaded so thoroughly with gold beads that it was hard to see the fabric beneath it at all. The strands of beads added a shimmery, dancing texture to it - as well as several pounds, making it not only the most expensive piece of clothing Byleth had ever purchased, but also the heaviest.

“Byleth, it’s perfect,” Mercedes whispered, her deft fingers lightly touching some of the beadwork.

“You really think so?” Byleth asked in return, suddenly shy again.

“Beyond perfect,” Dorothea agreed. “If he doesn’t kiss you tonight, he’s crazy.”

Byleth held the jumpsuit up, admiring the way it sparkled in the light and smiled to herself hoping Dorothea it was right.

\--

Ingrid and Byleth paused on the first floor of the dormitory just long enough to say goodbye to their friends as the two groups headed in opposite directions for photos and pre-ball activities. Ingrid threaded her arm through Byleths’ as they turned to head out the girls’ side entrance to meet the boys in front of the dormitory.

Neither of them wore a coat and the harsh December air bit at their skin the second they stepped outside. Snow had fallen earlier in the week, and it had regularly warmed and frozen since then, leaving the lawn iced over, and the sidewalks coated in a layer of salt and water.

The first thing Ingrid noticed when coming upon their small group was Sylvain’s verdant suit. She wondered, briefly, if he had accidentally ordered the wrong thing, but quickly realized that no, this was exactly the kind of style choice he would make. It was a direct, extreme contrast to Ingrid’s own choice, the silver threading already feeling bold.

The boys must have heard the sound of their high heels on the sidewalk, as all three turned to look at her and Byleth as they approached. Dimitri's eyes lit up as soon as he saw them, his mouth breaking into a wide grin, hurrying over to meet them.

“You look wonderful,” he smiled, looking down at Byleth. Ingrid smiled to herself as she turned to the two others. Where Sylvain was dressed as loudly as she had ever seen, Felix looked like a character in a spy movie in his head-to-toe black. 

“Well, doesn’t one of you look dashing,” she remarked as she sidled up. 

Sylvain pouted. “Come on, Ingrid, don’t tell me you hate the suit too.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Who else hates it?”

“Everyone! Both of them,” he gestured to Felix and Dimitri, “and Emily,” he jerked a thumb over his shoulder. Ingrid peered past him to see a pretty girl she’d seen around campus before, wearing a golden yellow dress that would’ve looked marvelous with her dark skin, had it not been for the blue-green suit on her date. She was on the phone, and Ingrid wondered what the odds were that whoever she was talking to was getting a vivid description of Sylvain’s outfit.

“To be fair, you do kinda clash,” Ingrid said with a grimace. “But if you like it, Sylvain, then I’m glad. It is a very fun color.” She would let him be coddled a little because it was a special night, but she quietly felt very sorry for Emily.

“You look great, by the way, Ingrid,” Felix said, a little halfheartedly - Ingrid forgave this, too, since she knew who he wished he could be saying it to. 

“Are you sparkly?” Sylvain asked, stepping closer, and reaching out a hand to touch the material, just above her hip.

“Hey!” She swatted his hand away and watched as he dragged his gaze up from where his hand had been to finally, slowly, meet her eyes, almost as if he was checking her out. Hilda’s teasing tickled the back of her mind, and she pushed it away. “Yes, I am sparkly. But only a little.”

“Very you,” Felix nodded appreciatively, rubbing his hands together. “Ok, can we start the picture thing before we all freeze to death?” 

Dimitri and Byleth rejoined them, and they tracked down Ignatz, who was acting as a roving photographer for anyone who wanted it. The six of them lined up against the most picturesque wall of the dormitory, withered ivy vines curled onto the brick above them.

Sylvain and Ignatz directed them through a series of poses, each feeling weirder than the last for Ingrid, who was acutely aware of the fact that the hands on her waist, however platonic their intentions, belonged to the brother of her deceased ex-boyfriend. 

“Is this weird?” she asked, as Ignatz lined them up in a new configuration. “It didn’t feel like it was going to be weird when we were planning it, but now that we’re here…”

“Now that we’re here, it feels super weird.” Ingrid could feel Felix nodding, his chin bumping up against the side of her head. “It’s just one night, though.”

She agreed, but even as she did, a hand squeezed cold around her heart. She hadn’t had one of her “little episodes,” as her mother called them, in several months, but she recognized the cold grip sensation. “Felix,” she just managed, her breath getting more and more shallow.

“I’m here,” he whispered, finding her hand with his and grabbing it tightly. 

Their relationship had been different since Glenn died. They’d had to survive the same grief, the same heartbreak, but had struggled to do so together. They had always seemed so similar on the surface - stoic, calm, constantly suffering Sylvain’s ridiculousness - but they found quickly that they mourned in very different ways. Felix had sunken into himself, quiet, endeavoring to heal completely on his own, whereas Ingrid had thrown herself into every organization and group that would take her. The more distracted she was, and the more time she spent thinking about other things, the less she thought about Glenn, and how much she missed him. Over time, she’d gotten better at slowing down without falling apart, but not so quickly that Felix, Sylvain, and Dimitri hadn’t learned to see the signs of her implosions.

And they knew, because they were her best friends, how to keep her from collapsing.

“Why don’t you get some of the actual couples, give us a break?” Felix dug his other hand into her side, the pain and sensation dragging her into the present as he led her out of the camera’s view, far enough away from the rest of their friends that they could pretend to be having a normal conversation. “Think about your horse. Think about Ritta. Think about the feeling of the reins in your hand - the roughness of the leather. Think about what it feels like when you pet her mane, and how it’s different than the feeling of petting her shoulder, or her nose. Think about the way the smell of the stables, like dirt and horse shit - I don’t know how you guys spend so much time there, seriously.”

Ingrid laughed, barely, her voice thick with unspilled tears and panic. “Ok. Ok, I think I’m ok.” The sensory details took hold in her thoughts, allowing her to drive away the encroaching panic. She sucked in a breath, held it for eight seconds, counting carefully, and blew it out. She did this again, and a third time, as Felix watched the photography session, ignoring her as she collected herself, exactly as she wanted. She rubbed at the halter neck of her dress, reminding herself that it wasn't choking her, that she could breathe perfectly fine. “Thank you,” she exhaled when she was mostly back to herself.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Do you?” Felix looked startled at her question, so she continued on. “I don’t want to hurt you, Felix, in trying to unburden myself.”

He shrugged, his face pinched. “I don’t really want to, no, but then again, I never do. I feel like I should, though. Especially tonight, since this is already so…”

“Weird?”

He looked resigned to their poor vocabulary and assented. “Yeah, weird.” She watched Sylvain and Emily pose for Ignatz, instructed by Dimitri and Byleth, only looking back at Felix when he nudged her. “You can say it, whatever it is, if it’s bothering you.”

She pulled in a heavy breath, unsure if she would be able to get the words out. He was being so kind, and so caring, and she didn’t want to make worse what was already going to be a rough night for him. 

But then, he was being kind and caring, and it seemed he wanted to know. So she told him. “You look so much like him.” His whole body tensed. “And I feel so guilty.”

Some, but not all, of the tension left his body with a jolt. He stared down at her. “Guilty for what?”

She shrugged, a new sensation of tears creeping up behind her eyes. “For everything. For being here, with you, now, when I wasn’t there for him.”

“When weren’t you there for him?”

“I just - I always think about how I could’ve saved him. Maybe it’s selfish, or egotistical, to think I could’ve,” she paused to blink away tears, looking up at the sky, willing them to sink back into her eyes rather than ruin the makeup her friends had worked so carefully on. “I just feel like it’s my fault,” she said to the stars.

“Would you believe me, if I said I thought all of that stuff about myself?” There was a shadow over his face, so Ingrid couldn’t make out his exact expression, but she heard the regret in his voice and believed him immediately. “We might be more messed up than we realize.”

“Speak for yourself,” Ingrid said, carefully dotting away the last of the tears with her fingertips. “I know exactly how messed up I am. I even made sure you all knew, too.”

“Fair enough. Maybe I’m the only one who didn’t know, then.”

They stood together in silence, the freezing wind finally registering in Ingrid’s mind as the rest of her brief panic subsided. Finally, when she thought she could say it without crying, she said, “I just really miss him.”

Felix wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her tight, not quite a hug, but something, and rested his chin on her head. “I miss him too. Every day.”

They watched their friends finish their photos, and then let themselves be pulled in for a few as a pair. They stood close, a level of comfort between them that hadn’t been there just twenty minutes prior, and managed genuine smiles, as above them, the stars winked in the darkening sky.

\--

Felix hated to admit it, snarky as he was, but the ball planning committee had outdone themselves. Twinkling lights had been strung across the ceiling in imitation of the real winter sky just outside. Balloons in several shades of blue dotted the sides of the room, silver and gold confetti scattered across the floor. He thought the Frozen Night theme was stupid when he’d first heard it, and he still kind of did, but at least the decor wasn’t half as bad as he was expecting.

He and Ingrid stood close as Sylvain and Emily practically ran onto the dance floor, Dimitri and Byleth close behind. He wished, briefly and painfully, that he was having a night like Dimitri, with someone who looked at him like he hung the moon, instead of someone who looked at him and apparently only saw his dead brother.

The conversation with Ingrid still rang in his head, and he hoped the pop music blaring from the DJ stand would wipe it away. He had trouble talking about his feelings, even in reference to the easiest, lowest-stakes subjects, and unloading some of his remaining grief, even as little as he had, had drained him.

He eyed Ingrid carefully. She had pulled herself together with meticulous care, looking no worse off now than she had when she first stepped outside. He knew, though, that beneath the carefully composed smile and attentive eyes, she must’ve still been an inch from boiling over.

That was why, when Dorothea had come to pull her into the crowd of dancers, Felix had happily let her go. Ingrid was happiest when she was distracted, and Felix knew that Dorothea and the DJ could supply that much better than he could.

He slunk around the dance floor, heading for the opposite side of the room, where a second set of doors that led to a terrace would provide both a reprieve from the already repressive heat of the room and an excellent place to take covert sips from the flask he’d slipped into his jacket pocket.

He took up a post against the wall, just behind a column, and looked around for any teachers or chaperones as he fingered the flask. He was just pulling it out, having seen no teachers, when he instead saw Annette.

His breath caught in his throat. She was dancing with Mercedes, and she looked phenomenal. She was wearing a long, dark blue dress, the top layer of which was some sort of mesh material that had been delicately embroidered with golden stars and constellations. Her hair was in two small buns on the top of her head - so  _ fucking _ cute - and she wore a radiant smile. He watched as she tipped her head back and laughed, a high, clear sound that he could hear over the music.

The last time he’d heard her laugh like that had been on Halloween, after she pushed him with one finger and he’d nearly toppled to the ground.

Nausea rocked him briefly as he remembered everything that followed that moment. He’d replayed those minutes on the roof a hundred times since they’d happened, each time trying to find the moment that ruined everything. He had figured out that the kiss had been the worst part of it, but he realized looking back that she’d been annoyed at him even before that. He didn’t know where it had begun, and now, as he watched her spin around, her skirt flying out like a galaxy around her, he wondered if he’d ever have the chance to ask.

He let the flask fall back into his pocket, unopened.


	8. A Winter's Ball, Part 2

“Every year, at the winter ball,  _ somebody _ inevitably breaks in, leaving it free reign for whoever else wants to go up.” Dimitri was pointing to the spire tower at the front of the church as he and Byleth walked outside. “There’s a legend, too - apparently if two lovers go up there and make a wish, it’s destined to come true. I don’t know where it came from, though - it’s sort of silly.”

“Is it?” Byleth asked, her hand brushing purposefully against his as they walked.

He looked down at her, his light blue eyes almost violet in the darkness, and smiled. “Should we go see for ourselves?”

A thrill ran through her, and she nodded. “Yes.”

Dimitri grabbed her hand, his long fingers wrapping around her own, and she allowed herself to grin at his back as he pulled her towards the church. They glanced about, and on seeing no authority figures, they slipped inside the doors. Dimitri led Byleth down a hallway that ended in an old wooden door.

“This is it,” he whispered. “This door is always locked, but assuming someone else got here first,” he pulled on the handle, and the door swung open. He beamed at her, and she returned the smile. He grabbed her hand again, and Byleth wondered if all it took to get him to touch her was to stage a break-in.

Inside of the tower was dark and cramped, with a single staircase spiraling upwards. They followed it, Dimitri still leading, to the top, where the stairs opened into a single circular room. Arched, paneless windows opened into the night sky on all sides, giving them a full view of the campus. Last week’s snow glittered in the starlight, and even in the places where it had been marred and trampled by footprints, it shone. Byleth looked over the green, taking in the sight of the place that had suddenly become her home. Dimitri stepped up behind her, just close enough that she could feel the warmth emanating from his chest on her exposed back. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked.

“Gorgeous,” he murmured. She turned to look at him, and found that he was already staring at her, the barest hint of a smile curling his lips. Their faces were close enough now that it wouldn’t take much - Byleth was taller in heels, and she would barely have to stretch to meet his mouth with hers.

And then he stepped away.

He leaned against the wall, crossing one long leg over the other. “So, what do you say? Should we make a wish?”

Byleth raised an eyebrow, sour at the space he’d put between them again. “I thought you said that tradition was for lovers. We haven’t even been on a date.”

His mouth fell open for a moment before he burst into laughter. “I was  _ going _ to ask -”

She smiled, too, despite herself. “Oh, like you were  _ going _ to ask me to the ball, and then waited six weeks?”

He sobered, mostly, and moved closer to her again. “I’m sorry. I’ve been stressed with all the end of the semester stuff, and shit with my family -” he waved away her questioning look, and continued, “and I just didn’t want to start something if I didn’t think I could put all my attention in it. But, I think my life will be better after Christmas. So, Byleth, when we get back from break, will you go on a date with me?”

A soaring feeling came over her, and she nodded. “Yes, I’d like that a lot.”

He took another step towards her and smoothed a hand over her hair, letting a few strands slip between his fingers. “Good,” he said softly, “I don’t think I need to make a wish anymore.”

Byleth fought the grin that threatened to envelop her entire face. “That’s incredibly cheesy.”

“I know. I don’t care.” He reached down and entwined his fingers with hers, admiring her hand as he held it close to his body. “Your hands are so warm.” He looked up at her, his piercing eyes searching hers. “Should we go dance?”

Byleth nodded, and let him lead her back out of the tower, down the winding stairs, feeling as though her feet never touched the ground.

\--

Ingrid’s feet were beginning to hurt, and she had half a mind to add her shoes to the growing pile of abandoned heels near the back wall when a hand wrapped around her elbow.

“Hey,” Sylvain shouted into her ear, barely audible over the thumping bass. “Wanna get some air?”

Ingrid nodded, did her best to communicate that she was leaving to Dorothea, and followed Sylvain out of the middle of the packed dance floor. They walked onto the back terrace together, where the school cooks kept a small herb and vegetable garden, though the plants were all covered in blue tarps now to protect them as best they could from the snow and chill.

The cold air lapped at Ingrid’s skin, hot from all the time she’d spent dancing. Her hair had just begun to fall apart, a couple of loose strands now hanging around her face. She tucked them behind her ears and looked up at Sylvain. He was also looking a shade more disheveled than he had the last time she’d seen him, his hair fluffier and his tie loosened. 

“How’s your night going? Where’s Emily?”

“Oh, she wanted to dance with her friends,” Sylvain shrugged it off, but it explained why he’d come looking for Ingrid.

They strolled a bit through the planters, nearing the greenhouse when Sylvain put a hand out to stop Ingrid. “Do you hear that?” he whispered.

Ingrid listened. Just over the sounds of the party inside, she could make out a murmured conversation. Two voices, one very deep, the other higher, seemed to be talking about something serious, though Ingrid couldn’t make out any words.

Sylvain lit up. “I think we’re walking in on a tryst!”

She rolled her eyes but felt the same selfish fascination. “Are they in the greenhouse?”

Sylvain nodded, pointing out two shadows. “Should we go see who it is?”

“That seems like an invasion of privacy,” Ingrid said as she crept towards the door. She crouched near the ground, letting Sylvain stand over her as they pushed the door open quietly. The voices broke off suddenly, and Ingrid thought they’d been caught, until she heard other soft noises, and she poked her head in more.

She and Sylvain saw them at the same time - Dedue and Ashe, locked in a kiss. Ashe had one arm thrown around Dedue’s shoulder, the other grasping his face, while Dedue’s hands skirted the whole of Ashe hesitantly, like he wasn’t sure where he was allowed to touch.

Ingrid and Sylvain looked at each other, identical expressions of joyous shock on their faces as they backed out and shut the door as quietly as they opened it. 

Sylvain helped Ingrid off the ground. “Oh my God!” they whisper-shouted, hurrying away from the greenhouse. They rounded a corner and burst into laughter, finally far enough away to be able to talk at a normal volume. 

“I can’t believe we just saw that.”

“I can’t either - I mean, I know Ashe has been holding a torch for ages, but I never actually thought anything would happen!” 

“You look elated,” Ingrid laughed, poking at one of Sylvain’s cheeks, rounded in his smile. “You’d think Ashe was kissing you back there.”

“Well, I’m clearly not his type.”

“Weird they chose the greenhouse,” Ingrid mused as they walked around the back of the dining hall. “Isn’t all that stuff supposed to be reserved for the tower?”

“Not  _ all _ the making out can go down in the tower,” Sylvain reasoned, batting her with a shoulder. “Surely you and Glenn made out at the dance in a place that wasn’t the tower.”

She scoffed. “We didn’t ever make out in the tower.” The tower in question came into view, and Ingrid wondered how many people had been up there tonight, and how many more would go up before the night was over.

“Right,” Sylvain nodded. “I bet you were the kind of couple that went up to make your wishes, all earnest and whatever.”

“We didn’t go to the tower at all.” Sylvain stopped in his tracks. Ingrid turned to look at him. “What?”

“You never went up the tower with him?”

“I’ve never been up, period.”

Sylvain still wasn’t moving. “You’re joking.” When she shook her head, his eyes brightened in the familiar way they did when he had an idea. “We have to go up! It’s our last year, Ingrid, and if you’ve never seen the view, you have to see it at least once”

Ingrid shook her head and backed away. “No way, it’s against the rules.”

“Ingrid, we broke into a dead professor’s laboratory last month and stole his research. You are not above breaking rules, as much as you like to think you are.”

Ingrid couldn’t think of an argument. She looked over her shoulder at the turret-like tower, rising high in the air, and sighed. “Fine, let’s go.”

After a brief pause at the bottom of the stairs to make sure they wouldn’t be walking in on anyone else, they headed up to the top of the tower, Sylvain taking the stairs two at a time with his obscenely long legs, and Ingrid following at a more modest pace.

When she came into the room at the top, she gasped. Sylvain was already darting from window to window with a puppy-like excitement, sticking his head out through each and inhaling the winter air, as if it was somehow better up here. Ingrid toured the space more slowly, looking over the frosted campus grounds with care, trying to commit the sight to memory. 

“It’s like being inside of a snow globe,” she breathed, the words coming out in a puff of fog. She shivered, her bare shoulders reaching their limit of the amount of time they could spend outside in this weather.

“Here,” Sylvain said, shrugging off his jacket and draping it around her shoulders. She protested, but he shook his head, guiding her arms through the sleeves. “I’m warm enough.” She thanked him, and wrapped it around herself, letting the length of it swallow her. “So, should we make a wish?”

He was looking at her expectantly, almost nervous, and she frowned. “Aren’t you supposed to only do that with someone you’re  _ romantic _ with? You should’ve brought Emily up here if you wanted to make a wish.” She couldn’t help the note of annoyance that slipped into her voice, though she wasn’t entirely sure where it had come from.

Sylvain crossed his arms over his chest. “She’s not the kind of girl you make wishes with, at least not for me. None of the girls I’ve ever dated have been.” The last part was quieter, and Ingrid wondered if the regret in his voice was real, or if she’d imagined it.

“You really care for them so little?”

He ran his fingers through his hair, sending red curls off in different directions. The tousled look usually worked well for him, but now, he just looked anxious. “It’s more complicated than that. Part of it is just that a lot of them care way too much.”

“What does that mean?”

He turned to look out one of the windows. “Pretty much every girl I’ve ever dated or even talked to at this school has made it clear that they see me as a name and a family fortune, and not much more. The only girls who don’t bring it up are the Blue Lion girls - you, Annette, Mercedes, and now Byleth. I feel like everyone else just sees me as a means for a comfortable life, like if they can lock me down now, they’ll be on the fast track to marriage and happily ever after, or something. I think that’s part of the reason they get so mad at me when I end it so fast.” He turned back to Ingrid, his brown eyes dry but full of emotion. “I get that they’re looking out for themselves, but I kinda feel like I deserve to be loved for who I am, not just my name or my family’s money.”

“You do,” Ingrid said so softly she wasn’t sure he heard. They stood for several moments in silence. “So, you said that was part of it - that they cared too much - what’s the other part? Of why you’ve never made a wish up here?”

He looked back at her, a little surprised, with an expression of either abject fondness or pity. He shook his head, a smile finally finding its way back to his face. “Look, do you want to make a wish, or not?”

She didn’t know what was going on in his head, what was so clearly weighing on him, but Sylvain had never been the most open about anything that wasn’t his most surface-level thoughts. If he wanted to explain it all, he would in his own time, so for now, she just nodded. “Yeah, let’s wish.”

She joined him by the window and placed her hands in his. She squeezed her eyes tight and tried to think of something to wish for, but all she could think about was the sadness in Sylvain’s eyes when he talked about the way he was viewed. She dwelt on that, and finally pulled together a wish for him and his happiness, realizing that she may well be the first person to do so.

When she opened her eyes, he was already looking at her. “Wanna head back down?”

They let go of one hand but kept the other clutched together so that Sylvain could help Ingrid down the narrow, winding stairs as she held up her dress in her other hand.

“It’s a shame it’s so inconvenient to look nice,” she moaned as they walked slowly down.

“What do you mean?”

“Just how annoying it all is. My skirt is too narrow to give me a good range of motion, and the heels make it way harder to walk. All of it is just to look good, and I’m not sure it really even worked.” 

She’d meant it as a joke, but Sylvain squeezed her hand. “Are you kidding, Ingrid? You look beautiful tonight. You’re always beautiful.”

She stopped, her feet on different stairs, and turned halfway around to be able to see him. She had never heard him say something like that about her - even earlier that night, when Felix had said she looked nice, Sylvain had been quiet. It was dark in the stairwell, but Ingrid could tell he was avoiding her gaze and wondered if it was possible that he was blushing.

A strange warmth blossomed in her chest. It was like a gust of warm air, like sitting in front of a fireplace on a cold day or stretching under the sun on the first nice day of the year. It was like the feeling of crawling under a blanket next to someone, and finding comfort in their body heat.

It was, she realized, a familiar sensation, one she had only previously had when she was with Glenn, when she had discovered that she liked him, and in every sweet interaction between them until his death. It was a feeling of wanting, not for friendship, but something more, something better.

The warmth was washed away, almost as quickly as it had appeared, by residual guilt and sadness from earlier in her night. How, in one evening, could she tell Felix how much she missed Glenn, and then come to the tower with Sylvain? How could she mourn for one man and then hold hands and make wishes with another?

She slid her hand from Sylvain’s. She continued, wordlessly, down the stairs, using the wall for stability, and left the church behind, not looking back again to see if he was following.

\--

Felix wasn’t trying to lurk in the shadows, but he supposed that was exactly what he was doing as he watched Ingrid walk out of the church, wrapped in what was unmistakably Sylvain’s jacket. Sylvain himself followed about ten feet behind, and Felix wondered what on earth had happened between them for both to look so uncomfortable, but with Ingrid still wearing his jacket. Surely if she’d been mad, she would have thrown it back at him - in fact, Felix was certain that’s what she would do because she’d done it before. Now, there was just a distance between them, and Felix hoped he wouldn’t have to be the one to fix it. He hated fixing his friends’ drama.

He was torn from this train of thought by a small movement in the corner of his eye. He watched as Annette, recognizable in her blue and gold dress and little hair buns, snuck through the door that Ingrid and Sylvain had come through. She must have been waiting for someone to leave so she could go in.

Before he knew what he was doing, Felix was jogging across the lawn to the church, snow getting in his dress shoes and wetting his socks. He ducked through the church door, taking in the terrible, sweet smell of communion and perfume, and listened carefully. He couldn’t hear anything aside from the distant sounds of the dance, and so he assumed that Annette had gone up the tower. He had been up once before, with Sylvain and Dimitri, just to see what it was like, and so he took the familiar stairs as quickly and quietly as he could.

She stood alone in the moonlight. Her dress matched the sky perfectly, only her red hair and pale skin preventing her from melding with it completely. She stood at one of the windows, hands flat on the stone sill, and he almost walked back down the stairs without disturbing her. But he knew that if he was going to push one more time, this was the moment to do it. He hoped once that the legends of the tower’s romantic powers were true, and stepped inside.

“Annette?”

She jumped and spun around, a hand pressed to her chest. “Oh my goodness, Felix, you scared the life out of me!” She looked him up and down before settling her gaze on his eyes. “Look, Felix,” she started, and made a move towards him, towards the door.

“Wait, Annette,” he said, putting his hands out, no longer caring that he sounded desperate. “Please just let me apologize.” She didn’t move again, and he took that as permission to keep talking. “I’m still not entirely sure why you’ve been so angry - not that I’m saying you  _ shouldn’t  _ be mad, just that, I don’t know exactly what parts of that night were the worst for you. But I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, and I know of a few things I want to apologize for. So, the first is that I want to apologize for trying to make a move while drunk. I should’ve waited until I was sober. And I’m sorry that I made the move I did - I shouldn’t have just kissed you like that, out of nowhere. I should’ve told you all the things I was thinking.”

He gave her a chance to stop him or say something, but all she could do was stare at him, open-mouthed, so he continued his improvised monologue with renewed enthusiasm.

“I really like you, Annette. I’ve never liked anyone the way I like you, I don’t think. I like talking about books with you, and the way you always argue with me, just for the sake of arguing, even when you believe the same thing I do. I haven’t read  _ Jane Eyre  _ since Halloween - I didn’t want to read any of it if I wasn’t going to be able to talk to you about it. I really like how you make up songs while you clean or cook or whatever, even if you never let me hear them. I did hear you once, actually, in the library. You were looking for a book and singing to yourself and I didn’t interrupt but I thought it was lovely.”

She had already been blushing, but she turned completely red at this last point. 

“And the thing is, Annette, the last couple of months have sucked completely not having you to hang out with. So I’m sorry for kissing you, not because I didn’t want to or anything like that, but because it ruined a perfectly good friendship. So if you can find it within yourself to forgive me, I would really like to be friends again. I can live without the rest of it, happily, even, if we can talk about books again. Ok, I’m done.”

He took a moment to catch his breath as they looked at each other under the light of . “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk so much at once,” Annette said, breaking the silence.

“I’m not sure I ever have,” he admitted, taking one step closer to her. “I mean it, Annette, when I say I’d be happy being friends. I never wanted to make you uncomfortable with that kiss. I don’t want one, stupid, unrequited kiss to ruin what we have.”

She laughed cheerlessly. “That’s not why I’m mad.”

Felix deflated. “Annette, I don’t know how I’m supposed to make this any better if you won’t talk to me.”

She pressed her lips together. “The reason why I was mad - why I  _ am _ mad, isn’t because you kissed me. It’s because for the entire time we were hanging out, you refused to do so publicly.” He started to interrupt, but she held up a hand. “I let you talk, so now it’s my turn.” He nodded, and she kept going. “You only ever wanted to hang out on the roof. In class, in study sessions, in the dining hall - you always treated me completely cordially, like we were acquaintances, and then when we were alone, you touched my hands and my face and my knee and talked to me with so much confidence. And then on Halloween, at a party with all our friends and classmates, you wouldn’t even talk to me without first getting me alone, back on the stupid roof. It felt like you were hiding me, Felix. I kept talking myself in and out of the thought that you might actually like me, because the only times you gave any sign that you might, it was with no witnesses. I thought you were making fun of me, somehow. Like trying to see how far in you could lure me, without having to interact with me publicly.”

Felix stared at her, dumbfounded. Every piece of their relationship that he had thought was thrilling and romantic had seemed like an insult to her. “Annette - sorry, can I talk now?” She nodded. “I never,  _ ever _ tried to hide you. My friends are idiots - loud idiots, and I thought that the less they saw of anything we had, the less they’d tease us. I don’t like to share every part of my life with the world, and I thought the way we were doing things was nice because it was private - not because I was ashamed of you, but because I don’t like people looking at me. I didn’t meet you on the roof because I didn’t want anyone to see, I brought you there because all year, I’ve been thinking of it as  _ ours _ . A place where we could be alone, not so that nobody saw you, but so they wouldn’t see me.”

She looked up at him through her lashes, the coy, teasing smile he’d been missing appearing on her face again. “Felix, are you saying that you’re shy?”

He laughed. “Yeah, I guess I am. Annette, I don’t know how anyone could be in a room with you and not stare - you’re the most beautiful, ethereal person I’ve ever known. I could never be ashamed to be around you.”

She stepped towards him and put her hands on his chest in a familiar way, but this time, she didn’t push him away. “So, is it possible that this whole time, the problem was really nothing more than a lack of communication?”

“I think it’s pretty likely.”

“Then I guess a big part of this fight has been my fault.” She looked up at him, and he was extremely aware of how close she was, with the knowledge ringing through his ears that he could not and should not be thinking about kissing her.

“I’m not interested in assigning blame.” He reached up to wrap his hands around her slim wrists where they still lingered on his chest.

“I know,” she said, “but I’d still like to say that I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not talking to you, and I’m sorry for not saying anything about it all sooner. And I really like talking about books with you, too. I don’t like that you listened to me sing,” she laughed, and he followed suit, albeit nervously, “but I can forgive that. I do like that you’re a fencer. I liked watching you fence at the field day.”

“You watched that?”

“Mhm,” she hummed. Their voices were so low now they were scarcely above a whisper. “And afterwards, when you were all,” she waved a hand vaguely around her head before putting it back to his chest, right above his heart, “sweaty and disheveled. I watched you then, too.”

His breath caught in his throat. The way she said it, her voice low and breathless, it didn’t sound like an insult. It was more like she had  _ liked _ the way he looked, with his hair damp and stuck to his neck. It conjured images he didn’t have the time or concentration to process right now, and he hoped that she couldn’t feel how rapidly his heart was beating in his chest. “Annette, I -”

She cut him off by moving. Her hands slid up his chest and around his neck as she pressed her mouth to his in a kiss that was immediately a million times better than their first. He let his hands leave her wrists and slide up her arms to her shoulders, and wrapped around to press into her shoulder blades and into the space between. He held her as closely as he could, suddenly terrified that it could all break apart again.

It didn’t. Her lips left his only long enough for her to tilt her head and change the angle. Her arms tightened around his neck, her entire body pressing flush against his. He gasped at the sensation of her tongue, warm and sweet, against his bottom lip. 

Felix was the one to pull back, though he didn’t go very far. “Annette, are you sure that this is what you want?”

She nodded, their noses bumping together lightly. “Yes. I’m just annoyed with myself that I delayed it so much.”

He kissed her cheek, and her nose, and her other cheek as she giggled. “I’m really glad you feel that way. Um, should we go somewhere else, though? Just in case someone comes up.”

“Oh! Yes, we should. It’s freezing up here, anyway.” She dropped away from him, but found his hand.

“I hadn’t even noticed,” Felix said, his smile lazy and happy, and let Annette pull him down the stairs to find another place to make up for lost time.

\--

The dance had less than an hour left, but it hadn’t died down at all. People had come and gone and come back to the dance floor all night, turning it into a constantly changing mass of teens. Byleth was with Claude and Hilda, Hilda’s wide, fluffy pink skirt giving her quite a berth. She and Claude were dancing and laughing together, and Byleth had been rescued from feeling like a complete third wheel by Dorothea, who had joined them by spinning Byleth around. Byleth had seen Dorothea’s dress earlier when they were getting ready, but she marveled at it again, the deep red color, tight bodice, and high slit up the skirt combining for an impeccable result. 

Byleth didn’t know when she’d lost Dimitri, but it hadn’t been long after Ingrid and Sylvain had returned, wearing forced smiles. She was having fun without him, though, buoyed by the date they had planned for January. Even so, she was running out steam, and motioned to her companions that she needed air, and they nodded happily. She didn’t think Hilda had left the dance floor all night, so Byleth wasn’t sure she really understood what she was saying, but it didn’t matter.

She stepped out onto the garden terrace, the cold air a pleasant shock. The beading on her jumpsuit, as lovely as it looked, was starting to chafe under her arms, and the whole outfit’s weight was making her shoulders sore.

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

Byleth started and whipped around. Headmistress Rhea swept out onto the terrace, her formal gown covering her entire body, neck to toe, with the exception of her hands, which were clasped in front of her.

“Oh! Uh, yes ma’am. Thank you.” 

Rhea smiled in the vacant, soft way Byleth had seen before. “And how did you enjoy your first semester with us?”

Byleth considered everything before answering. “It was...challenging, ma’am, but not impossible. A good kind of challenging, I think.” 

Rhea nodded. “And your classmates?”

Rhea wasn’t actually looking at Byleth, but rather out over the garden, and Byleth didn’t know whether she should look at Rhea or not. “They’re great - all friendly, I mean. I think I’ve made friends.”

“Good,” Rhea said with another nod. “It is peculiar, sometimes, how God’s will directs us. It may have been hard for you to see, when you first came here, why He led you to us. I hope now, after several months, you are feeling more comfortable with His direction?”

“Oh, um, yes, ma’am,” Byleth answered. She didn’t tell Rhea that she didn’t believe in God, and that she hadn’t questioned her move to the school as a result of anyone’s will but Rhea and Jeralt’s.

“Very good, Byleth,” Rhea said, and turned and walked back into the party. “I hope your second semester is just as successful as your first,” she called over her shoulder, before returning to her chaperoning duties. 

Byleth let out a long exhale. She waited several minutes before going back in, the phrase  _ God’s will _ rattling around in her skull.

\--

Felix and Annette hadn’t gone far for privacy. They’d stopped at the first door they’d found - the coat closet just feet from the entrance to the tower. They had laughed at the cliche of making out in a coat closet, but that hadn’t stopped them from slipping inside and shutting the door.

Felix hadn't known that anything could feel as good as Annette’s fingers felt as they ran through his hair, and he was glad that he’d been convinced to leave it down. With the way Annette was burying her hands into his scalp, gently tugging on his hair every so often, he was half tempted to never put it up again.

Their kisses had become much more impassioned in the dark of the closet. Her tongue swept inside his mouth with an allowed freedom, and he nibbled on her bottom lip, eliciting a small gasping moan from her that set his blood on fire. He was grateful, strangely, for her floor-length voluminous skirt that prevented his hands from doing anything more than grasp at her hips and waist. It wasn’t that he didn’t  _ want  _ to - he did, and that was the problem. He didn’t want to take the risk of screwing anything else up with her, and that included moving too quickly.

There was a sound of footsteps outside the coat closet, and they broke away from their frenzy instinctively, staring at the door. It stayed closed, though, the high heeled steps continuing towards the tower. Annette and Felix stayed pressed together, chests heaving synchronously, as a second, quieter pair of footsteps followed the first.

Annette dropped her forehead onto Felix’s chest before looking up at him. Her turquoise eyes were dark from the size of her pupils, and her lips - her perfect lips, which Felix felt he could spend the rest of his life kissing - were red and swollen. She laughed at him, and he knew he must look similar.

“Your hair is a mess,” she whispered, extricating one hand from the nape of his neck to try and smooth it down.

“I got the sense earlier that you liked the disheveled look,” he said, his voice huskier than he’d intended.

She grinned wickedly. “I do, even more now that I’m the cause of it, but I figured that since you’re so painfully shy, you might want to look a little less wrecked, whenever we emerge from here.”

He kissed her jaw, and then the top of her cheekbone. “You’re so thoughtful,” he muttered into her hair as he pressed several kisses into the top of her head.

She angled her face to add in a few kisses of her own, starting at the corner of his mouth and trailing down his jaw to his neck. She kissed his pulse point, and it sent an electrifying tingle down spine and pulled a loud, rough gasp from his throat.

She looked up at him, wide-eyed and mischievous. “Whoa.”

“I didn’t know - I didn’t realize that was a thing that felt like that,” he attempted, words alluding him .

“I didn’t either,” Annette said slyly. “Should we see if it happens a second time?”

“Wait!” he said, moving a hand to her shoulder. She peered up at him, confused and concerned. “I just - yes, I would like to - uh, investigate that further.” She snorted. “It’s just - maybe not here, and not now? And maybe we just pump the brakes a little, before I embarrass myself?”

She cocked her head, and began to ask what he meant, when understanding flooded her face and her eyes went round. “Oooh,” she said, and then glanced downward.

“Don’t look at it!”

“It?” She giggled again, and then stepped back, keeping her eyes respectfully on Felix’s burning face. “Ok, I won’t look. I’m being respectful. I also don’t want to do anything crazy in the closet of a church, so I think this is a good decision.” She stepped to his side to lean against the wall with him, still giggling.

He shut his eyes and took several deep breaths, trying to redirect his attention and his blood flow away from the tightness in his pants. He found her hand with his and brought to his mouth, planting one kiss on the back of her hand. “Thanks,” he said, after some time. 

“Of course,” she said. “Should we talk about something else?”

Felix nodded. “Actually, I do have something I’ve been wanting to ask.”

“Fire away.”

“What made tonight different?” When she didn’t answer, he clarified, “I mean, with us. You haven’t talked to me, or let me talk to you, in weeks. Why did you let me talk to you tonight?”

“Oh. Well, promise you won’t be mad at your friends?”

Felix turned to her, eyes wide. “What did they do?”

“Nothing bad,” she promised. “Just - when we were all getting ready together earlier, Ingrid told me a bunch of stuff. Mostly just that you really liked me, and that you thought that we were going somewhere. When she said all that, I guess it kinda made me realize that I didn’t have everything right in my head - that I made assumptions that turned out to be wrong.”

“So I have Ingrid to thank for all this?” Annette nodded, and squeezed his hand. “Remind me to buy her a really good Christmas present.”

Annette laughed, and Felix started to lean down again, his other situation mostly under control, when a loud scream cut through the air. At first, it sounded like it was above them, but by the time it ended, abruptly and with a sickening, crunching crack, it sounded as if it was right outside.

Felix and Annette looked at each other, horrified. Annette shook her head, as if she was already insisting that it couldn’t be what it had sounded like, and then they were pulling each other out of the closet and outside the church, to the base of the tower.

Annette shrieked and buried her head in Felix’s chest, but Felix couldn’t look away. He remembered the sounds of footsteps, two sets of footsteps, going up to the tower, and he looked upward. There was no sign of movement, nothing to hint at the identity of the second person in the tower, because he knew with a sick certainty who the first had been.

A crowd was forming now. Ingrid and Byleth were already there, Sylvain behind them and Dimitri completing the group as he ran up behind Byleth. All of them were staring at the concrete ground in front of the tower in horror, seeing exactly what Felix had - the broken and bloodied body, head snapped at an unnatural angle, of Dr. Manuela Casagranda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry, but ONLY to the person who commented on the first chapter saying that of all the professors, they were glad I killed Hanneman because he's their least favorite. I hope I didn't lose your love with this one.
> 
> The goddess tower is one of my favorite moments in the game, so I was excited to try and adapt some of that material here.
> 
> If you would like to yell at me, you can find me on Tumblr @silenticarus. Thanks, as always, for reading and all your support. Cheers, y'all!


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